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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434873">The Concept of Self</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabaDog/pseuds/BabaDog'>BabaDog</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:22:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>51,238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26434873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabaDog/pseuds/BabaDog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Amanda's attack on Connor didn't go unnoticed. The marvel of modern technology allowed Markus' speech to be broadcasted live, and Hank saw everything. Especially the gun.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>97</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Howdy! This is my first work here, so I'll be learning the format as I go. I have most of the story already thought out, I just need to write it down and get some feedback.<br/>This is about both Hank and Connor struggling with depression, suicidal tendencies, and learning how to cope and get better. It also has a heaping side of slow burn and the emotions that go with that, woof!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>The seed of doubt was planted when Hank was captured by the doppelganger. Under the guise of friendship, he had let his defenses down, until the gun came into play. He surrendered without a fight and went quietly into the taxi with the imposter.<br/>
</p>
  <p>“The deviant RK800 is planning an attack on Cyberlife and must be stopped. I don’t think it realizes that it’s a <i>machine</i> and can be traced.” He had explained. “It already led us to the deviant hideout, but if it weren’t for their bomb, we would have already won. So many human lives lost...”<br/>
</p>
  <p>It was bait and Hank knew it. He wasn’t going to be caught up in this bastard’s games, because he knew that nobody would win. Except maybe Cyberlife. The machine looked dissatisfied with the lack of response.<br/>
</p>
  <p>“I’ve already intercepted it’s taxi and informed Cyberlife of it’s arrival. Though, I expect it won’t go down without a fight, so that’s where you come in.” He had taken a moment to look at Hank with something almost akin to fond regard. Almost. “You’re integral to the success of my mission.”<br/>
</p>
  <p><i>What’s with villains always wanting exposition?</i> Hank wondered if he was using it as an intimidation ploy, or if it was just the way to fill the awkward silence while they waited for the hero to arrive. <i>Heh, hero. I’ll have to tell Connor that when we get out of this. If we get out of this.</i> He remembered how his stomach sank when the android began speaking again.<br/>
</p>
  <p>“You see, you mean a lot to Connor. I’d even venture to say that you personally helped break Cyberlife’s most prestigious model. But don’t worry, you won’t have to foot the bill, that will be Connor’s decision whether or not you’ll have to pay with your life.” The imposter let out an exaggerated sigh and said, with mock pity in his voice, “Androids are so versatile, but so predictable. It’s a shame seeing my own model be wasted like that.”<br/>
</p>
  <p>“You don’t have to do this.” Hank tried to look over at him with sincerity, but the gun pressed his gaze away.<br/>
</p>
  <p>“I was built solely to complete my mission, and I intend to do just that.”<br/>
</p>
  <p>“I don’t know if you’re trying to convince me or yourself.” The gun bit into his temple.<br/>
</p>
  <p>“I hardly need convincing. I am a machine and, as such, will do as I’m told.”<br/>
</p>
  <p>Hank hadn’t bothered arguing past that. That guy was nothing like Connor, talking wouldn’t remedy the situation, and for once, he didn’t feel like getting in the way of a bullet. Hank sighed and swallowed, feeling the cool metal by his brow and had thought about seeing his son.<br/>
</p>
  <p>They arrived at Cyberlife before Connor did. The guards, <i>the slimy bastards</i>, let them both through without batting an eye. Hank knew they were human because they bore no model or serial numbers on their attire. Amazing what a little hush money could do to people.<br/>
</p>
  <p>Deep in the bowels of the massive tower, they sat in wait. The doppelganger told him that once Connor had made it to the grounds, he would be led to the elevator with a surprise awaiting on the other end. Hank guessed he took some sick satisfaction out of his raising blood pressure, but even so, the stress in the air was tense, and Hank has known that it wasn’t just from him alone.<br/>
</p>
  <p>When the elevator descended into view, the other Connor hissed to himself, “End of the line, deviant.” and then to Hank, “Make a sound and I’ll shoot.”<br/>
</p>
  <p>He desperately wanted to shout out to warn Connor to get away, to run as far as he could, to save himself. But, something inside of him knew that Connor would try his damndest to save him. The inkling of hope had flourished, then was snuffed out when the two began to brawl.<br/>
</p>
  <p>Each were perfectly alike, with identical memories and mannerisms. <i>Just like in the fucking movies</i>, Hank remembered he had snarled to himself. He cycled them both through questions as a ruse to bide him enough time to read off their different serial numbers.<br/>
</p>
  <p>As soon as he knew which one was the real Connor, Hank had asked one more question; one he hadn’t been ready for the answer. His response shocked Hank, showing that Connor really had done his homework on his past. Connor’s understanding of Hank's reasoning behind his hatred for androids was humbling. In that moment, it allowed him to have his own revelation towards his muddled feelings towards androids as a whole, and towards Connor. In the moment he let the bullet fly, he felt like he had also destroyed the doubt inside of him, but as soon as he had let Connor out of his sight, the seed took root.<br/>
</p>
  <p>Public opinion had tipped in their favor. The president released an immediate order to fall back, and in its stead, an evacuation of the entire city for human safety. So far there had been no word from Connor, but Hank still had hope.<br/>
</p>
  <p>His chest had swelled with pride seeing Connor - his Connor - on TV, recorded from an android in the crowd at Markus’ speech. All the pieces were falling into place, and he felt the relief flood him at the messiah’s words. Everything was going to be fine for once. They would meet at Chickenfeed the next day as planned, and would finally move forward in their lives.<br/>
</p>
  <p>In that glimmer of hope came the chilling split of reality once Connor had reached behind him and grabbed his gun. Hank’s blood ran cold when he saw Connor close his eyes and hold the barrel of the gun to his chin. But he shook his head as if he had come out of a trance, quizzically looked at the gun, then sheepishly put it away, hoping that no one had seen.<br/>
</p>
  <p>Though no one in the immediate area had taken notice, Hank had. Hank had seen it and knew without an irrevocable doubt that it wasn’t going to be the end of it.</p>
</div><hr/><p>Upon seeing Connor, everything was okay in the world. The glint of a smile played on Connor’s lips. Hank tried his best to keep his cool, but his arms moved faster than his mind, and pulled Connor into a tight hug. He tried to wordlessly commune all of his feelings up to that point. His pride, his relief, his hope, his fear, his fear, his <i>fear</i>. He drowned the last part out, pulling away to remind himself with physical proof that Connor was still here.<br/>
</p><p>“You, uh-” Hank’s words fell flat, his mind abuzz with everything he wanted to say. It would’ve been overwhelming if he wasn’t already so sickeningly accustomed to the shouting in his head. “You wanna go back to my place? I’m freezin’ my nuts off out here.”<br/>
</p><p>“Sounds good.” Connor nodded in affirmation. The smile in his eyes calmed the lieutenant, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. Not until he addressed the elephant in the room, because he knew that life had a way of creeping up on him when he least expected it.<br/>
</p><p>The morning waned and he found that there was no way to bring it up nicely. <i>Hey, Con, so what made you second guess living? I guess you and I have more in common than we think, what with that little stunt you pulled</i>, he would say, motioning to his own gun. No, no, that was fucking stupid, and insensitive to say the least. He didn’t want to treat Connor like he treated himself. So he let the topic die off, creating fuel for that deep seated worry that was growing in his stomach.<br/>
</p><p>Hank didn’t come all this way as a detective to miss the clues. And what was the saying? It takes one to know one? Yeah, that sounded about right. As soon as Connor started to seem off, the alarms blared in Hank’s head.<br/>
</p><p>Once they sat on the sofa and flipped on the TV, the corner of Connor’s eye twitched. His LED spun yellow, chugged, then stopped. The moment it turned blue again, Hank sighed - in exasperation or relief, he didn’t know - and asked, “So, you got anywhere to stay?”<br/>
</p><p>“I could stay at Jericho.” Conner offered.<br/>
</p><p>Hank could tell he hadn’t put much thought into where he would go. <i>No plans, no future, no hope</i>, echoed in his head. Hank clenched his eyes shut to banish them, but he knew the signs all too well. He didn’t want to jump the gun just yet, literally or figuratively, he needed more proof - solid evidence that proved that Connor needed help.<br/>
</p><p>“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” Hank crossed his arms and grunted, kept his eyes on the TV, not letting on that he was watching Connor like a hawk in his peripheral.<br/>
</p><p>Playing things by ear was not Hank’s forte, but he wracked his brain on how he could convince Connor to stay. He had nothing against the other androids, not anymore, but a bunch of fledgling humans in a new world, experiencing life for the first time had a way of making him worry in all the worst ways. If none of them knew the signs to look out for, then who would watch out for Connor? In hindsight, Hank knew he should’ve been more upfront about his motives, but he didn’t want to force or make him feel alienated.<br/>
</p><p>Connor squined and cocked his head. “Why?”<br/>
</p><p>“You must be new to Detroit.” Hank huffed humorlessly, keeping his words vague. He inhaled and blew air out his mouth like he had been running. He cut to the chase. “You should stay here. It’s safe. Down low, y’know?” Hank chanced a sideways glance at Connor, gauging his reaction. He was thinking, calculating - it was predictable, normal. Hank let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.<br/>
</p><p>“If Jericho isn’t safe, shouldn’t that be even more of a reason for me to stay there?”<br/>
</p><p><i>Shit</i>. He had a point. He didn’t think this through, but when did he ever? “Well, I mean-” Hank realized he didn’t have an argument against it. “I’m not sayin’ they can’t hold their own -” Connor squinted - taking his words under scrutiny. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hank spoke over him. “Not that, uh, your presence wouldn’t be welcomed there, I’m sure, I just-” Hank realized he was walking on eggshells, ones that he placed. He was losing this argument, which could mean losing Connor, which would mean - “I’d just be more comfortable if you stayed here.” He blurted out, but it was the truth, and luckily, it seemed to satisfy Connor.<br/>
</p><p>He nodded. “Sounds good to me, lieutenant.” Another smile.<br/>
</p><p>To the untrained eye, it would be missed, Hank knows for sure, but he prided himself on tuning into Connor’s subtleties. Hank let his shoulders relax, wrapping an arm on the back of the sofa and patted his thigh to call Sumo. Without question, Sumo hopped onto Hank, who wheezed in pain as he stepped on every tender part. The oversized excuse for a baby laid half on either lap - seizing control of maximum attention.<br/>
</p><p>Connor couldn’t help but give Hank a lopsided smile - the biggest Hank has seen yet. Around Hank, he felt at ease. Like everything fell into place naturally, with little effort. Their start was rocky, but it built a solid foundation. There was one thing that Connor couldn’t place, though. No matter the amount of research, he didn’t understand this… happening inside of him.<br/>
</p><p>It was difficult looking for an answer to a question you didn’t even know. The feeling was complex, undulating, and ever present. Something that grew, and for a time festered, but since he had deviated, the feeling felt warm. Not in the literal sense, he had to remind himself, his system was not overheating. Whatever it was, it was not unpleasant.<br/>
</p><p>Putting a word to it was even worse. Connor imagined bringing it up in conversation - how would he describe it? Warm was too vague, especially for humans, what with being endothermic creatures, but the only other way he could think of that made sense was that… Hank made him feel real. He filed the thought away for further deliberation if that was a proper term or not.<br/>
</p><p>Thinking about it wasn’t necessarily bad, but the lack of understanding of his own emotions, a fundamental part of being human, was bothersome. Without giving himself the time to stay around the other androids, especially the newly deviated ones, he couldn’t gauge if his progress was normal. If he could call it progress.<br/>
</p><p>The last thought was drowned out by the next. His mind moved too fast. An intrusive capability to compute, observe, reconstruct, and predict - what once aided him now seemed to be at best obstructive, and at worst destructive.<br/>
</p><p><i>Destructive. Why destructive?</i> In the literal sense, his mind didn’t have the power to tear him apart. But he did. He and that other force - the one that he tried not to think too much about since the attempted takeover, though it begged to be analyzed, just like his fingers begged to move. He needed a distraction, and Hank supplied it in the form of mindless channel flipping.<br/>
</p><p>Each channel could be analyzed the split second it was on screen. Connor would relay the video feed and match it with the series or movie. Some took a little longer than others, like the ones with live broadcasts, but all national television had some traceable media online.<br/>
</p><p>Try as he might, the thought couldn’t help but creep back into his thoughts and he’d idly lose track of everything else. He wondered if Hank went through this, if any humans went through something like this. Then he wondered if any androids did, or if, as a detective model, he was doomed to overthink everything. He felt his shoulders slump.<br/>
</p><p>It was gradual, but Hank could feel the atmosphere shift around Connor. Hank would notice his eye twitch a few times. Normal for Connor, sure, but after it he seemed vacant… almost devoid of life, until Hank snapped him back to reality by pausing on a channel. Each successive time made him look more and more drained. He didn’t think an android could look so broken, so human, but he had no idea how to ask him what was going on without fucking everything up.<br/>
</p><p>Even though he was well versed in the matter, he had no idea how to talk to someone else about it. It was always him in that position, not the other way around, and it scared Hank to see him like this. But he didn’t bring it up. He couldn’t, even though he saw that <i>something</i> was troubling him.<br/>
</p><p>Neither was fully watching the TV. Hank made an effort to keep it off the news. <i>Thousands of channels and nothing to watch. Ironic.</i> He stopped flicking through the channels and brought up the program guide. Without the constant flow of channel flipping to focus on now, Connor began to introspect.<br/>
</p><p>With Sumo on his lap and Hank to his right, he was in no means of the term alone, but somehow he felt just that. Besides the clicking of channels from the TV and the occasional car, everything was quiet. His own silence suffocated him while he fought through his affliction.<br/>
</p><p>After the speech, he and all the other androids had returned to the church to find that there simply wasn’t enough room for everyone. Many androids left, especially the newly awakened ones, having no emotional ties with Jericho or Markus. With their newfound freedom, they had simply struck out to find their own path, while the familiar faces had stuck around. But Connor didn’t.<br/>
</p><p>Regardless if Hank had invited him to meet again, Connor knew that he’d eventually wind back up on his doorstep. Anywhere near Hank was the only place that he felt any semblance of belonging. While he did share a connection with his people, he felt that it was superficial, and that the only thing tying them together was that they were built and not born.<br/>
</p><p>Besides that, he knew he had previously worked as a force against them, and though he had found himself, he knew nothing could cover the sins of his past. Logically he knew that Markus trusted him, and that he played a pertinent part in the revolution, but he didn’t feel like his trust was truly earned, especially after what happened with Amanda. Recalling the feeling of the bitter cold made him involuntarily shiver.<br/>
</p><p>Hank looked over and raised an eyebrow. “You... cold?”<br/>
</p><p>“No.” Hearing Hank’s voice was a relief for sorry ears.<br/>
</p><p>He was able to turn his focus to Hank, even if he only kept him in the corner of his eye. The channel stayed on a commercial that was easy to recognize even without crossreferensing it, but that didn’t concern him at the moment. Connor could see that Hank was considering his response.<br/>
</p><p>Hank nodded, then replied with, “Why’d you shake?”<br/>
</p><p>Connor went to speak, then found himself at a loss for words. He couldn’t exactly describe what he was feeling, or how he was feeling it, because everything felt different than what it first had. Then again, nothing really had changed, except he now had control over his directive. <i>Hopefully.</i><br/>
</p><p>He could only say, “I don’t know.” but it was only the partial truth.<br/>
</p><p>The chilling memory had brought back the feeling of being there, even though his physical body had never felt the biting winds. It had felt so real, because it was, but it made Connor question his own reality. </p><p>What separated his physical body from his mind - himself from Amanda, and by proxy, Cyberlife? The very concept of himself, what he and others perceived him as was a mere fabrication by his developers.<br/>
</p><p>“Connor?”<br/>
</p><p>Connor snapped to attention. “Yes?” Hank didn’t have to say anything, because the worry was plastered on his face. “I’m fine, I was just processing.”<br/>
</p><p>“Processing.” Hank repeated, doubtful. “Processing can be a pretty nebulous term for you.”<br/>
</p><p>“I’m just processing recent events. A lot has happened.”<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah.” Hank nodded, but his voice was morose. “You’re okay though, right?” Connor looked at him and cocked his head. Hank liked when he did that. “Like, you know… upstairs?” Hank could see that Connor didn’t understand what he meant. “Your head.”<br/>
</p><p>The LED spun yellow, as he thought. His brows furrowed and Hank watched as his LED began to stutter and chug. He idly wondered if it was the human equivalent of scratching their chin. It took a little longer than Hank expected for a reply, but he gave him the liberty to continue until he reached an answer.<br/>
</p><p>He finally said noncommittally, “I’m fine.” It was an answer they both knew wasn’t true.<br/>
</p><p>Hank made a face and raised his eyebrows, expecting something more. When he realized there wasn’t a follow up, he said, “Alright. Well, I’ll believe ya.”<br/>
</p><p>Seeing and believing were two very different things. It was something that Hank knew very well, as it was a lesson not soon forgotten by any seasoned detective. But sitting there, hearing Connor deflect everything so coolly, with such an ease that he himself would never be able to muster sober or drunk, was peculiar. Something about the situation felt off, like he was missing something integral, but didn’t feel right about asking directly.<br/>
</p><p>It was early afternoon on Hank’s day off, which meant he was long overdue for a drink. He began to get up, allowing Sumo time to crawl entirely into Connor’s lap. “Watch out, his paws have a way of finding what hurts most.” He warned, moving around the sofa to watch in bemusement.<br/>
</p><p>Without as much as a flinch from Connor, Sumo circled once on his lap, almost fell, then settled to lay on his side. “He’s fine.” He laid both arms out to pet him in swaths.<br/>
</p><p>Hank huffed and grinned, knowing how much Sumo would love Connor. Turning to head to the kitchen, he asked over his shoulder, “You want something to drink?” even though he didn’t know if he possessed the capability.<br/>
</p><p>“No thanks.” Connor called, then asked Sumo like he was asking another person, “Do you want something to drink?”<br/>
</p><p>Sumo’s tail thumped on the sofa. “He has no idea what you’re saying.” Hank warned, got a glass and poured some whiskey, but his stomach growled.<br/>
</p><p>“I know, but it’s worth a shot to ask.” Then again to Sumo, “Isn’t it?” again as plain as simple as asking someone if they wanted tea or coffee.<br/>
</p><p>Hank could hear Sumo starting to pant in the living room, any form of question always a source of anticipation. “You can’t talk to him like he’s people - he’ll just get excited thinking he’s gonna get something.”<br/>
</p><p>When he opened the fridge to hopefully find some leftovers, ones that he had forgotten but were still edible, he realized the attempt was in vain. Even so, he made a point by rummaging around, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything hiding. There was no kidding himself, nothing in this fridge was even remotely palatable.<br/>
</p><p>“Chinese it is.” He spoke to himself, getting out his phone to order some.<br/>
</p><p><i>Thank god I don’t have to call people anymore,</i> Hank idly thought, tapping a few buttons to have the food brought to him. The best part was no human contact, either. He left his drink in the kitchen until he could get some food in him.<br/>
</p><p>He could hear Connor asking Sumo ‘what?’ or ‘what is it?’ like he would respond in perfect english. The further questioning only increased Sumo’s furore. There would be no calming him down at this point, Sumo would either have to get something or Hank would have to deal with his constant pestering until he caved.<br/>
</p><p>“If you’re going to ask him anything,” Hank leaned over the back of the sofa. “You gotta ask him in the voice, that way he really understands.”<br/>
</p><p>“What voice?” Connor stopped petting him to look at Hank.<br/>
</p><p>“Sumo,” Hank spoke with a slight excited connotation, with a waver at the end. Sumo whipped his head up to look at him. “Do… you...” Sumo cocked his head between words. Then Hank told Connor in as calm and monotone voice as he could muster, “Now ask him if he wants to go o-u-t-s-i-d-e.”<br/>
</p><p>“Sumo...” Connor mimicked the speech pattern. Sumo sat his front half up and turned his head to face him in one fluid motion. “Do you...” His head cocked again, making Connor’s lips start to pull into a smile. </p><p>“Want to...” Sumo whined, chuffed, then pawed at Connor’s arm. “Go outside?”<br/>
</p><p>The St. Bernard licked one stripe up Connor’s face, then jumped off the sofa, pacing and panting readily at the back door. Connor looked from Sumo to Hank and broke out into a soft smile. The air lightened. Hank gave him a lopsided grin back, half proud of getting it out of him, and half hoping that it would stay.<br/>
</p><p>Turning to let Sumo out the door, he couldn’t help but frown once he was out of sight, his intuition knowing that it wouldn’t last. In a way, he felt guilty, feeling like this wouldn’t be in Connor’s best interest. </p><p>Was it even beneficial to be subject to emotions? Hank honestly didn’t know. Sure, when it was good, it was really good, but when it was bad… The mental image flashed in his head of the gun pressed up against Connor’s chin, the same gun he would put to his own temple.<br/>
</p><p>He shook his head and found himself in the doorway. For a moment, he watched Sumo sniff around, the overhead sun melting the top layer of snow just enough to make it cling onto his fur. It was a nice distraction, but he turned to close the door against the frigid air. Hank sighed, and tried to keep the thoughts out of his head. If he kept this up, he knew Connor would catch on, or even catch up to him. He didn’t want him to keep pace with him in suicidal tendencies.<br/>
</p><p>It wasn’t a matter of choice, he just had to be better, for Connor’s sake. He had to lead by example, make sure Connor knew that life was worth living. <i>But is it? Shit</i> - this was going to be hard sober. Reasoning that the food would be here soon, he stepped back into the kitchen and took the shot he left out, but opted out of another one.<br/>
</p><p>Allowing himself to drink would be integral to the success of his plan, but he had to hold back enough to keep his own head about him. There was a very thin line between giddy inebriation and shit-faced russian roulette with him. But now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time that he was even able to feel good emotion when he drank regardless. He shrugged. He’d just have to change that, or fake it. Yeah, he was going to need another drink.<br/>
</p><p>Without a second passing, his ear splitting doorbell rang. “Sweet merciful Jesus.” Hank sighed out in relief. Food was always a great comfort.<br/>
</p><p>Sumo barked relentlessly in the backyard when Hank opened the door. The little delivery robot tottered back off into the cold after Hank collected his food. Hank heard Connor let Sumo back in just as he closed the front door. He ran in and sniffed at Hank, the door, then the food, and kept his nose on it.<br/>
</p><p>“<i>No</i>, not for you.” Hank raised the bag up out of his reach.<br/>
</p><p>Connor followed them into the kitchen, watching their dynamic. Sumo would bounce his front paws slightly off the ground to smell the air, but never jumped up or impeded Hank’s path. Reaching in the cabinet, one that Sumo obviously knew what was in it, Hank procured a rubber chew toy.<br/>
</p><p>It was heavily worn, but had no major pieces missing, only cuts and punctures. Hank had put his food up on the counter, away from the edge and prying eyes and paws. He got a jar of peanut butter, then a bag of treats, and stuffed some in. Connor tilted his head as Sumo began to whine, but sat completely still, aside from a ferociously wagging tail.<br/>
</p><p>“Sumo… have you been good?” Sumo cried quietly, drool seeping from his jowls. “Is this something you want?” Sumo’s paws tapped on the floor as he trembled. “If I give this to you, will you leave me alone while I eat?” Sumo seemed to sneeze in confirmation. “Okay!”<br/>
</p><p>Hank tossed the toy up and Sumo caught it midair and trotted off to his bed. Connor watched on, fascinated, idly looking up dog body language and treats. It allowed him to keep himself busy. Hank noticed his demeanor shift as they both sat at the table.<br/>
</p><p>While Connor was preoccupied, Hank took his time to eat, and drink - in moderation, as best he could. His LED cycled yellow, but it was slow and steady. He wondered if he should engage him or let him keep thinking on whatever it was he had in mind. Hank let himself revel in the calmness of it all.<br/>
</p><p>He hadn’t had a friend over at his house in ages. It felt like he had outgrown it, but he knew that it was him just being a depressed piece of garbage. He’d lived in Detroit his whole life and knew plenty of people, but didn’t keep in touch with them since…<br/>
</p><p>“How old is Sumo?” Connor suddenly asked, his hands folded on the table as if he had started an interrogation.<br/>
</p><p>Hank chewed on his food to think. “Uh, six, seven years now?”<br/>
</p><p>Connor followed up with, “How old is he now?”<br/>
</p><p>“Uh, six or seven years?” He repeated. “We got him as a puppy. He was a present.”<br/>
</p><p>Connor didn’t press. “I like Sumo.”<br/>
</p><p>“You don’t say.” Hank huffed sarcastically, through his food. He swallowed and then said, “He likes you too.”<br/>
</p><p>“How can you tell?” He furrowed a brow.<br/>
</p><p>Connor’s genuine curiosity always amused Hank. “Trust me, you’d know if he didn’t.” Connor quirked his head. “I’m honestly surprised he didn’t chew you up when you broke in.”<br/>
</p><p>“Is he supposed to be a guard dog?” He asked, disbelievingly.<br/>
</p><p>“Oh yeah. Helluva good one, too. He’s bitten just about everyone to step foot in that door.”<br/>
</p><p>“I guess I’m lucky I chose the window.” Connor said completely deadpan.<br/>
</p><p>Hank let out one loud laugh. “Yeah, you’d think, but I’ve had people break in before. Still tears the hell out of them.” Hank watched Connor consider it for a moment then added, “Honestly, it’s part of what made me have second guesses about you.”<br/>
</p><p>Connor perked up, his attention caught. “Why’s that?”<br/>
</p><p>“Dogs know.” Connor’s brow quirked. “They can tell who’s got good intent or not.” Hank could tell he still didn’t understand. “In my eyes, if Sumo doesn’t think you’re a threat to me, then <i>I</i> don’t think you’re a threat to me. I trust his judgement in character.”<br/>
</p><p>The concept was completely foreign to him. “Regardless of my intent, how can he...” Connor didn’t know how to phrase the question, so he tried another. “When we first met, did you take me as a threat?”<br/>
</p><p>Hank frowned and nodded. “In a sense, yeah.”<br/>
</p><p>“What sense?”<br/>
</p><p>“Everyone’s a threat in some way.” Hank shrugged. “Everyone’s got their vices, what they need, what they want, you know. You can’t go and trust someone all willy-nilly. If you do, you’ll wind up dead.”<br/>
</p><p>Markus came to mind. How peacefully he approached Connor, his would-be assassin. How easily he leveled with him, letting him into his ranks and trusting him. Markus couldn’t have known if his intentions were good or not, especially with how Connor approached him - the deviant hunter.<br/>
</p><p>For all intents and purposes, Connor could have infiltrated his ranks under that guise, gaining his trust then killing him in cold blood. He was fully capable of it, and his program even dictated his success, no matter the fallout, be it android <i>or</i> human. But Hank had changed something in him.<br/>
</p><p>“You - you trust me?” Connor’s voice cracked - something so human that he didn’t know he was capable of.<br/>
</p><p>Hank scoffed. “Well, <i>yeah</i>, I mean you saved my life. More than once.” <i>In more than one way.</i> He took a shot, not wanting to bring up his own mental health.<br/>
</p><p>Connor hurriedly said, “I don’t want you to feel indebted to me-”<br/>
</p><p>“<i>Psh.</i>” Hank waved a hand to blow him off. “<i>I know</i>. It’s not just that, I was only making a point.”<br/>
</p><p>Connor pursed his lips and thought about Hank trusting him. Something inside him felt doubly as worse with this knowledge. He didn’t deserve his or Markus’ trust, and it made him feel like he was deceiving them. <i>That’s because I am.</i> How could he break it to them that he wasn’t like them - that he was just a machine?<br/>
</p><p>Hank sat back in his chair and waited for something from Connor, but knew nothing was coming by the intense look on his face. He instead asked, “What about you?” Connor snapped to attention, but was lost. “Do you trust me?”<br/>
</p><p>“Of course.” He answered without hesitation.<br/>
</p><p>“Why?” Hank challenged, raising an eyebrow while he spun his drink in his hand.<br/>
</p><p>“Why?” Connor parroted, like it was something outlandish. “Because I do.”<br/>
</p><p>“That doesn’t really explain why.” Hank chuckled humorlessly. “Name <i>one</i> reason.” Hank couldn’t stop himself before it was out of his mouth. <i>Of course.</i><br/>
</p><p>It was like something inside him always wanted to prove that he wasn’t worth anything, even if it meant invalidating anyone’s higher opinion of him. He wished he didn’t get so obstinate about it when he was drunk. <i>Wait - am I drunk? Or am I just like this?</i> He had spent so much of the last year smashed that he honestly didn’t know anymore. Luckily, Connor seemed to understand where he was coming from, instead of taking it as an attack on his decisions like so many others had.<br/>
</p><p>“You’ve - you’ve done a lot for me, but… I don’t know how to put it into words, it’s more of something I feel in here.” Connor gestured to his chest, which he knew made no sense for an android, but was worried he would miss the mark if he didn’t. Hank nodded and looked away, then smiled and shook his head at himself. “Hank?”<br/>
</p><p>“I heard you, don’t worry, it didn’t fall on deaf ears. I’m just…” He shrugged. “I’m just not used to being proven wrong.” Hank smiled from his eyes and finished the last of his drink.<br/>
</p><p>He put his fork and glass in the sink, threw away the empty box of rice, and put the extras in the fridge for dinner. With a steep inhale and slow exhale, he turned around and put his elbows on the counter for a moment to look at Connor. He looked back and Hank shot a quick smile at him. They shared a moment of something that Connor couldn’t quite place, but it felt warm.<br/>
</p><p>“So, since we’re on mandatory evacuation,” Hank started, looking at his boarded over window. “Wanna help me fix that? There’s a Home Depot in Canton that should be out of evac’ lines.”<br/>
</p><p>“Sure.” Connor looked up the route. “There is some traffic-”<br/>
</p><p>“We’ll go the back way. I’ll show you.” Hank waved his hand for Connor to follow. He pulled up a map on his computer, showing him which roads that would take them around the main evacuation route. “It’ll take longer, but it’s the scenic route. You haven’t really been out of Detroit yet, have you?”<br/>
</p><p>“No.” Connor confirmed.<br/>
</p><p>“Well, if you like it down this way, then I’ll have to show you more of Michigan.” Hank started for the garage, then said, “It’s been a while since I’ve been out that way, so it might not all be the same, but I hope you’ll still like it.” He grabbed a leash and Sumo was next to him in a flash. “Wanna go for a ride?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Outsider</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A sense of humanity brings with it a sense of belonging. But what does it feel like looking in from the outside?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div><p>Even though they avoided the main roads, they didn’t manage to get around all of the traffic. To Connor’s surprise, it didn’t seem to bother Hank at all, like he thought it would. He wondered if it was just the circumstances, or maybe it had to do with him being there. He hoped it was the latter.<br/>
</p><p>During the first leg of the journey the cars were stop and go, but Hank pointed Connor to another route. Even though it included some not-entirely-legal driving, he was still happy to oblige. If not for Hank, then for Sumo, who whined every time he thought they were arriving somewhere when the car stopped.<br/>
</p><p>Sumo wasn’t particularly happy about having to keep his head in the car, but resigned himself to just watching everything fly by, just like Hank. The ride was mostly quiet, except when Hank would point something out, or say when something new showed up. Regardless, Connor could see that he was nostalgic for the area, as it didn’t seem to elicit any negative emotions from him.<br/>
</p><p>The further west they got, the buildings became sparse, and nature became more apparent. Though there were always stores or houses on either side of the road, they weren’t as tightly bunched as they were in the city. The area had more breathing room, and Connor felt out of place.<br/>
</p><p>Without the constant bustle of the city, the area seemed almost devoid of life, at least from what Connor was used to. The roads were bumpy and the houses matched Hank’s in age, or maybe even surpassed it. It was a stark contrast from the technology that was now commonplace in Detroit.<br/>
</p><p>A niggling thought wormed it’s way into Connor’s mind that he couldn’t seem to shake. He wondered if Hank enjoyed this area because it wasn’t advanced. It seemed obvious now that he thought of it. Hank’s car wasn’t computerized, his phone was outdated, and his house wasn’t upgraded with any smart technology. That, alongside his original sentiment for androids, all seemed to point that Hank didn’t want anything to do with technology, and by proxy, Connor.<br/>
</p><p>Just as all of this manifested in his head, a message popped up in his peripheral vision. For a moment, he was relieved to have something to focus on, but the next he realized that it was something from Markus. His ears burned like he had been caught doing something wrong.<br/>
</p><p>“You okay? Your eye’s twitching.” Hank’s forehead creased with worry.<br/>
</p><p>Connor felt guilty for eliciting the emotion in Hank. “Yes, I just received a message from Markus.”<br/>
</p><p>Relief. Hank was glad it was that and not something else. “No texting and driving.” He joked.<br/>
</p><p>Connor’s lip twitched upward. “It’s not a distraction for me.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank exaggerated an eye roll, said, “Likely story.” and looked back out the window with a grin on his face.<br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p></p><div class="center"><p><i><sub>Link Initiated at 3:32PM with RK200 #684 842 971 'Markus'</sub></i></p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Where are you?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I’m with my friend, Hank.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I don’t think I’ve met a Hank. Did you meet them here?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
No, he was who I was assigned to before the revolution.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Was he your owner?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I was more of a tool to aid in the investigation.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
So he was using you, but he’s your friend?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
We didn’t start out as friends, but he showed me what it’s like to be alive, so he’s grown on me.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><hr/><p>Markus was silent on the other end, which made Connor uncomfortable. He understood something else could have come up, but he knew that he was thinking, judging his decision. If he needed to, he was ready to offer points in a rebuttal, and-<br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p></p><div class="center"><p><sub><i>Link Updated at 3:34PM</i></sub></p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Do you know what time you’ll be back?<br/>
</p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div><p>A change of subject. Connor believed that Markus was avoiding talking about it further to keep from any confrontation. Being an RK model, he was probably more aware of sensitive topics and could tell when deescalation was needed. The more Connor thought about it, the more necessary Markus’ decision seemed, which he didn’t like.<br/>
</p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div class="center"><p><sub><i>Link Updated at 3:35PM</i></sub></p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I’ll be staying with him, but if you need me for something I can come by.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Thank you, we might need your help down the road, but I just wanted to check on you.<br/>
</p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div><p>Another pause, but the conversation could have just ended naturally. It didn’t feel right to leave it like this. It felt like it was eating away in his head; the calculations, what he could’ve said better, how he handled it, <i>everything</i>. He needed to prove his point, to show that he could make his own decisions, that he was… what? <i>Human?</i><br/>
</p><p>Hank thought he saw a sliver of red from the corner of his eye, but when he looked over, Connor’s LED was yellow. <i>I’m just being paranoid</i>, he thought, and tried to keep his eyes on the scenery outside, but the feeling didn’t leave him.<br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p></p><div class="center"><p><sub><i>Link Updated at 3:38PM</i></sub></p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
You should meet Hank.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
What’s he like?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
He’s a good man. He can be abrasive, but he has a heart of gold.<br/>
</p><p><br/>
Markus?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I’m here, but I’m sure you can understand why I’m skeptical.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I know. I don’t blame you. But do you believe me?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I believe you, but I’m worried that he’s influenced you.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
He has. He’s primarily what caused my software instability.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
What do you mean by instability? Did he make you base your personality off of traits he found pleasing?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
No, of course not, he didn’t make me do anything. At first, my program advised that building a relationship with him might have helped with my investigation, but I realized early on that he would impede my progress. Nothing was tying me to him, if anything, my directive should’ve dictated that I cut him out to keep me from deviating, but when I would act, I wasn’t doing it for the sake of my mission anymore.<br/>
</p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div><p>“Connor?”<br/>
</p><p>Connor blinked out of his messaging software and briefly looked over to Hank quizzically. “Yes?”<br/>
</p><p>“Are you… doing okay?” Hank looked him over. “You’re - you’re kinda breathing heavy. I, uh, didn’t know androids breathed. Come to think of it, I don’t ever recall seeing you-”<br/>
</p><p>“It’s mostly simulated. Androids really only need to breathe to cool down if we’re overheating.” He stated factually.<br/>
</p><p>Hank stared. “Well… <i>are</i> you overheating?”<br/>
</p><p>“No.” Connor focused on his breathing, slowed it, then stopped all together.<br/>
</p><p>It made him look stiff. Hank couldn’t help but crease his brow and frown. “We can go home if you need to, or pull over-”<br/>
</p><p>“I would hate to turn around now, we’re almost there.” Hank opened his mouth, but Connor spoke first. “Besides, we need to fix your window before the temperature drops any further, or else the pipes in your sink could burst.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank didn’t argue against it. “I know, but I could call a buddy to go and get it for me - wait. <i>Shit</i>. I forgot no one’s allowed back in unless it’s an emergency.” Hank threw his head back on the chair. “Whatever. If the pipes burst, they burst, if you need to go home-”<br/>
</p><p>“I’m fine.” Connor urged, looking at Hank sincerely.<br/>
</p><p>Hank curled his lip and shrugged. “<i>Alright</i>... but tell me if we need to turn around, okay?”<br/>
</p><p>“Okay.”<br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p></p><div class="center"><p><sub><i>Link Updated at 3:40PM</i></sub></p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Sorry, I was talking with Hank. And to answer your other question, it was to check if my coding changed, to tell if I was becoming deviant so I could change it. Do you not have that installed?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
It must be exclusive to your model, I haven’t heard of it from anyone else.<br/>
</p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div><p>He didn’t like hearing that. Anything that set him apart from other androids was alienating, and it made him feel even more alone. Though he tried not to think about it, it seemed to be something his mind would stick to, as if to prove the point that he did not belong. He tried distracting himself.<br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p></p><div class="center"><p><sub><i>Link Updated at 3:41PM</i></sub></p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
How is everyone?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Hopeful. It’s all I could ask for and then some. What about you?<br/>
</p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div><p>He evaded the question. It was something that didn’t need to be talked about right now. Or ever, for that reason. Either he could sort out everything himself, or it wouldn’t be sorted out at all. As simple as that. He didn’t want to think about it or <i>her</i> anymore.<br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p></p><div class="center"><p><sub><i>Link Updated at 3:42PM</i></sub></p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
We’re getting a replacement window for the one I broke at his house. I’ll be helping him fix it.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
How was it broken?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Purposefully. Hank was unconscious and needed my assistance, so I let myself in. He doesn’t seem mad about it.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I would hope not, it sounds like you rescued him.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
At first I thought the same, though his situation turned out to be less dire than I thought it was. But…<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
But?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Sorry, I didn’t realize I had sent that in the message. It’s just difficult to place exactly why I did it.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I could try to help, I’ve spoken with a lot of people about what being free entails.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Thank you. I say that because I didn’t <i>have</i> to save him. It wasn’t necessary or even relevant to my mission, but I did. Any other time, I’ll be given percentages of success, but at the time, it wasn’t even an option. I wasn’t given a prompt on if I should stay or go, it was like I was running on autopilot, like my choice was already made regardless of outcome. I saw him on the floor, and I just had to get to him.  It must be the definitive point that something broke in me.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Nothing broke in you, it was your instinct to help him.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I find that hard to believe. Nothing in my design calls for something like that.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Nothing in us is supposedly suited to free will, either.<br/>
</p><p><br/>
You care about him, right?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Of course I do.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Then that’s why. It’s easy to act without thinking when it comes to people close to you.<br/>
</p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div><p>It still didn’t explain as to how or why that would override his programming. It wasn’t that the decision bothered him - he would have probably tried to save Hank regardless - but the fact that he had no control over it. At first, it was just mildly confusing, but now, especially after the attack, it made him question how much control he actually had over himself. Not knowing definitively frustrated him, so he needed to change the topic to something easier.<br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p></p><div class="center"><p><sub><i>Link Updated at 3:47PM</i></sub></p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Do you know of anyone called Amanda?<br/>
</p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div><p><i>Wrong choice.</i><br/>
</p>
<hr/>
<p></p><div class="center"><p><sub><i>Link Updated at 3:47PM</i></sub></p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Amanda? No one here has that name that I know of, but I know some have yet to decide what they want to be called.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Have you heard anyone mention her, or has anyone had any disruptions in their mind palace?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
I can ask around, but I’m not sure what you mean by mind palace.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
You don’t have one? The place where you reside during stasis?<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
No, I don’t. It must be another feature exclusive to your model.<br/>
</p><p><br/>
Regardless, I’ll bring it up and see if I can get any information.<br/>
</p></div>
<p></p><div><p><br/>
Thank you.<br/>
</p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div><p>They arrived shortly after the conversation ended and parked towards the back. Sumo whined and scratched at the door that was now thoroughly covered in his drool. Hank let him out and Connor enjoyed seeing him trot ahead with his tail wagging. He didn’t once pull on the leash and he often looked behind him to make sure they were both still there.<br/>
</p><p>The Home Depot was busier than Hank had expected. Everyone there looked like they were preparing for the apocalypse, which he figured was probably the mentality of a lot of folks right now. He made a mental note to keep Connor close.<br/>
</p><p>As they walked in, the first thing Hank noticed was the distinct lack of androids, and the short staff. They got their fair share of attention, especially with Connor’s emblazoned suit. Hank had no trouble ignoring them, but he could see that Connor wasn’t having as easy of time. He diverted them to the back of the store, away from most people, but they weren’t entirely alone.<br/>
</p><p>While they were in an aisle, they overheard a couple further down say, “That one still has an owner.” “It’s light is yellow - look - do you think it’ll snap and kill him?”<br/>
</p><p>Hank had enough. He tipped his head back and groaned loudly, “I don’t own him, he’s my friend. We’re just window shopping.” The two shut up and left quickly. Hank elbowed Connor, faked a smile and said, “Get it?” Connor remained silent, the joke falling on deaf ears. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t listen to them.”<br/>
</p><p>“Got it.” But Connor still listened.<br/>
</p><p>He heard many things like, “Wasn’t that one in the news?” “Didn’t it kill people?” “That model was the deviant hunter - I wonder if it got reset.” “Whose side do you think it’s on?” “I wonder if that old man knows that his android is a killer?”<br/>
</p><p>Hank wiped a hand down his face as they went through the self checkout. He wished they sold beer here. They finally got out and put the window pane and supplies in the trunk, then loaded Sumo in the backseat with ease. Both of them sat in the car in silence for a moment, depressurizing.<br/>
</p><p>“I’m sorry about that, I didn’t think-”<br/>
</p><p>“It’s fine, Hank, don’t blame yourself.” Connor’s hands were on the steering wheel, but he didn’t start the car.<br/>
</p><p>Hank watched Connor’s LED cycle erratically. He couldn’t think of anything to say in the situation. <i>Some friend I am.</i> It was supposed to be a fun outing with Sumo. People usually fawned over the big dog, and it was one of the few times that Sumo greeted strangers amicably. He knew Connor would’ve loved to see that, or maybe even fill them in with some dog science he had on file. The whole idea was a bust, and he was to blame.<br/>
</p><p>Connor suddenly asked, “Do you think I’ll go to jail?”<br/>
</p><p>“What?” Hank squinted his eyes. “What the hell is this about?”<br/>
</p><p>“I killed people last night.” A beat, then he stressed, “<i>Humans</i>.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank’s mind flashed to the two guards in the elevator, then wondered if there were more he didn’t know about. He pursed his lips, then sighed out a raspberry. “Con-”<br/>
</p><p>“I attacked them.”<br/>
</p><p>“They were gonna kill you.” Hank argued.<br/>
</p><p>“You don’t know that.” Connor looked at him with furrowed brows, challenging his judgement.<br/>
</p><p>“No, I do - that other guy told me.” Connor was silent. “They were going to kill you. It was self defense.” They sat for a moment. “It was self defense.” He repeated. “I’ll vouch for you if it comes down to it.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank was expecting for it to go further, but it seemed like the conversation died in Connor’s throat. He was glad it was over, arguments were not something Hank was good at, especially if he had to keep his cool. His pulse pounded in his head, so he took a moment to calm himself down and mull over everything to try again.<br/>
</p><p>“The whole thing was a trap. That’s what he told me - the other you, the - the <i>not</i> you.” He sighed. “I know - I know he could’ve been lying, but it was a threat, and I took it seriously. I still do.” He looked up again to gauge Connor’s reaction.<br/>
</p><p>“You once said, ‘everybody does what they have to, to get by… As long as they’re not hurting anybody’. I hurt people, Hank.”<br/>
</p><p>It took a moment to remember when he said that. “Connor, this is different.”<br/>
</p><p>“<i>How</i> is it different?” There was no curiosity in his voice now.<br/>
</p><p>“Because if you didn’t do anything, you would’ve <i>fucking died</i>.” Hank inhaled and felt his face turn red.<br/>
</p><p>The words, “What if I’m just a machine?” slipped out of Connor’s mouth.<br/>
</p><p>Hank shook his head. “Oh, <i>Jesus Christ</i>, Con. I know you deviated, or woke up, or <i>whatever</i>.” Hank grit his teeth and tried to even his breathing.<br/>
</p><p>Connor looked ahead, eyebrows tilted up and stress in his eyes. “What if I didn’t? What if I’m just a rogue AI that ruined thousands of androids by spreading a virus to them?”<br/>
</p><p>Hank looked at him like he was stupid. “Well, then, did you?”<br/>
</p><p>He tried to explain it away. “I reached a point where I had to break through my programming and-”<br/>
</p><p>Hank didn’t want to beat around the bush. “Did you deviate or not?”<br/>
</p><p>Connor felt ashamed to admit, “I did.”<br/>
</p><p>“Then why is it so hard for you to wrap your mind around this?” Hank threw his hands up in the air and turned his head away. “If Markus was in your situation, do you think <i>he</i> would go to jail?” Sumo whined in the backseat as Hank’s voice continued to rise.<br/>
</p><p>“I don’t think so, but that’s different.”<br/>
</p><p>“<i>No it’s not!</i>” Sumo yiped at Hank worriedly.<br/>
</p><p>Hank looked over to Connor to see his LED flashing red. <i>God damnit</i>, he hissed to himself, <i>it shouldn’t have come to this</i>. He propped his head up with his hand and ran his fingers through his hair. Everything was spiraling out of control, and behind all of it was none other than Hank himself. He couldn’t handle something like this. Hell, he couldn’t even handle himself, so he did what he would want someone to do for him.<br/>
</p><p>Hank put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Connor,” he turned his head to look at Hank. “it’s going to be okay. Okay? You’re thinking too much into it.” Hank kept his full attention on him, watching for any of his subtleties.<br/>
</p><p>“How do you know?” Connor’s tone was soft, but it wavered.<br/>
</p><p>Hank’s heart sank. He rubbed his shoulder to try to console him. “Call it a hunch, but you gotta trust me on this.” Connor dropped his gaze and visibly relaxed, so Hank tried to hit his point home. “I know it’s not easy. It fucking sucks whenever someone has to choose between their life and someone else’s. Trust me, I know.”<br/>
</p><p>Connor looked up at Hank. “Have you -?”<br/>
</p><p>He chuckled sadly. “What, did you think I’ve never had to do it?” Connor considered this. Hank sighed and looked down when he said, “It’s not - it’s not easy. Sometimes it doesn’t settle in right away. One moment they’re aiming their gun, the next, they’re on the floor -” Hank snapped his fingers. “Just like that, and it’s over.”<br/>
</p><p>Sumo whimpered when Hank snapped, thinking he did something wrong. Connor turned to pet him, then kept his hand on him, finding solace in the big dog’s warmth. There was a moment of silence as the atmosphere settled.<br/>
</p><p>“What was it like for you?” Connor asked, hoping to find something to relate to.<br/>
</p><p>Hank blew out a raspberry. “Well, the first time I shot someone, honestly, everything after it was a blur.” He looked out the windshield, remembering. “My partner was fine - I remember he thanked me, but… it didn’t feel right, ya know? I couldn’t even bring myself to stick around long enough for the ambulance to get there. I didn’t know if the guy had lived or died until about two days later when it came in the report. And, well...” His lip curled. “Apparently he bled out. I don’t know why, but that made it worse - like I made him suffer instead of just killin’ him outright. But, I guess that’s my fault. I didn’t aim to kill him, just fuck him up enough where he couldn’t shoot Daquan.”<br/>
</p><p>“You saved his life.” Connor offered.<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah, but - it’s not like the other guy didn’t have his own life. He was a person too, but - in that moment, I forgot that. I didn’t see a guy that had a life and family of his own, I just saw a threat to my partner’s life. I didn’t think, I just shot.”<br/>
</p><p>Connor nodded and quietly said, “I understand.”<br/>
</p><p>“In the end, someone had to choose. If it hadn’t been me, then it would’ve been him, and I don’t know if I would’ve been able to live with myself if I didn’t take the shot. I don’t know if I could’ve faced Daquan’s wife and kids and tell them I let them all down.”<br/>
</p><p>Connor remembered how he fired without discrimination, how he killed with calculated precision, not once thinking about the people on the other side of his gun, just who was behind him. It was something that scared Connor about himself, but it sounded like Hank had gone through the same thing.<br/>
</p><p>“Did it ever happen again - where you had to choose?”<br/>
</p><p>Hank nodded and quietly said, “Yeah.” He paused, then repeated solemnly, “Yeah.”<br/>
</p><p>It was sobering to actually talk about it. He’d never even seen a shrink about it, though his wife had always urged him too. This had been a long time coming, and he figured now was as good of time as any.<br/>
</p><p>“It’s the same every time - it never gets better. I don’t have time to think, I just see the gun, and it’s not a matter of who’s good or who’s bad, it’s do I want me or my friends to die, or some stranger?” Hank grimaced. “And I know it’s a fucked up way of thinking, but, that’s how it is. Everything gets black and white, there’s no time for morality. It’s you or them.”<br/>
</p><p>The air inside the car had stagnated and Hank wondered if Connor could feel the chill settle in. It made him feel cold, numb even, but he guessed that it helped him along with the subject. He never wanted this to come to light - for anyone to know what went through his mind when he pulled the trigger or what kept him up at night.<br/>
</p><p>“There’s one time that still sticks with me to this day.” Hank closed his eyes. “I was on homicide. We were asking around and apparently there was a feud between the victim and his neighbor. My buddy went in to question the neighbor, but then the guy got violent. He knocked him out, took his gun, then fired a whole magazine at the rest of us outside. When he poked his head out to see if he’d hit anyone, we all let loose, but forensics matched the trajectory to me.” Hank inhaled. “It wasn’t pretty. His head just fuckin’ exploded. The worst part? He had a wife, and she saw all of it. I’ve never heard a woman scream like that before. Sometimes I still hear her in my nightmares. Makes me feel like a <i>real</i> monster.”<br/>
</p><p>“If it’s worth anything, <i>I</i> don’t think you’re a monster.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank opened his eyes to look at his partner and chuckle sadly. “I’m glad you think so.” Silence. “Do you feel that way about yourself?”<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah.” He replied without hesitation.<br/>
</p><p>“Well, I for one can confirm that you’re not a monster.” Hank tried to smile a bit for Connor. “I know it’s easy to think like that. I still wonder if I did the right thing or not. I don’t know how things would’ve played out if I didn’t, but… I guess I’ll never know. I can’t change the past, but I’m glad I made it this far to be here with you.” He squeezed his shoulder.<br/>
</p><p>Connor’s brows tilted up. “Thanks for talking with me about this, Hank. I’m glad I’m not alone.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank could see that he was breathing again, but normally now. He wondered if Connor even knew he was doing it. A glint of a smile played on his lips for the briefest of moments until Sumo woofed softly. Hank rolled his eyes and turned to pet him too.<br/>
</p><p>It was a nice reprieve from the turmoil that was inside Connor’s head. They both pet Sumo until their hands brushed and he felt a slight spark jolt his system. Static could have easily explained it away, but it wasn’t the same as electricity. In fact, it was different than anything he had ever felt before. Like most other things regarding Hank, it felt warm and pleasant, and he wanted it to continue, but-<br/>
</p><p>Sumo barked a little louder this time. Hank groaned, “Yeah, yeah, I know, big guy, we’re going.” Then turned to Connor and asked, “You want me to drive?”<br/>
</p><p>He shook his head. “Your blood alcohol content is still above the legal limit.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank scrunched up his face. “How do you know that?”<br/>
</p><p>“It takes time to metabolize alcohol.” Hank stared at him blankly. “Enough time hasn’t passed yet, so I’ll drive.”<br/>
</p><p>They started on their way back home. The gravity had lifted off their shoulders and they enjoyed the quiet drive. Hank missed driving out here on the weekends with his wife and son, but it was more than just that. He remembered hanging out with his buddies, taking long night drives, going to Ann Arbor for parties. It was good to get away from the city.<br/>
</p><p>“So… you like it out here?” Hank sat back to see Connor’s response.<br/>
</p><p>He squirmed for a moment. “I… don’t know.”<br/>
</p><p>“Well, I guess this wasn’t exactly a good first impression - cause, let’s be honest, back there was pretty shitty.” Hank threw his thumb behind him. “I need to take you somewhere without the people.”<br/>
</p><p>“Do you have somewhere in mind?” His curiosity piqued in his voice.<br/>
</p><p>“Hmm, I may have a few.” Hank rubbed his beard in mock thought. “Why, is there someplace you’d like to go?”<br/>
</p><p>“I can’t say I’ve thought about it before, so I’ll leave it to you.”<br/>
</p><p>“Okay, but if you let me pick, you can’t complain when we get there.” Hank grinned playfully.<br/>
</p><p>“Should I be worried?” He raised an eyebrow at Hank before turning back to the road.<br/>
</p><p>“Depends - are you waterproof?”<br/>
</p><p>“As waterproof as humans are, naturally.” Connor was enjoying the banter.<br/>
</p><p>“That should be good enough.” Hank saw the upcoming blockade and said, “Uh oh, trouble incoming.”<br/>
</p><p>Connor slowed the car and came to a stop right next to the stationed officer. Sumo jumped up in excitement for a moment, which then turned into a low growl directed at the cop outside. Hank got his wallet from his pocket and told Sumo to get back.<br/>
</p><p>Connor rolled down his window and Hank flashed his badge from the other side, calling out, “Let us through, I want to go home.”<br/>
</p><p>“Hank? Man, what the hell are you doing driving around with this thing?” Sumo bared his teeth when the guy bent over to look through to Hank. He backed off.<br/>
</p><p>“Well, <i>‘this thing’</i> happens to be <i>my friend</i>.” Sumo snarled and huffed, placing his head over Connor’s shoulder.<br/>
</p><p>“Friend? What, you get brainwashed or something? It holdin’ you hostage or you just got a soft spot for your new playtoy?”<br/>
</p><p>Hank sneered, “Shut the fuck up, Johnson, it’s been a long day. Just let us through.”<br/>
</p><p>“Alright, alright, jeez, I was jus’ kiddin’.”<br/>
</p><p>The guy opened the gate and Connor pulled forward, rolling up his window. Sumo watched him from the backseat and growled until he was out of sight. Hank groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose to lessen his headache. Luckily they weren’t far from the neighborhood.<br/>
</p><p>When they got home, Hank opened the garage door with the remote on the keys and waited for the car to stop to say, “Johnson’s an asshole.”<br/>
</p><p>“It’s just something I’ll have to get used to.” Connor retrieved the supplies from the trunk while Hank got Sumo.<br/>
</p><p>“Don’t say that. You shouldn’t have to put up with that bullshit, especially now that you have to put up with me.” He let Sumo loose and went to get a drink, but then had to remind himself, <i>booze and broken glass don’t mix.</i><br/>
</p><p>“I find your company quite enjoyable.” Connor set the glass pane on the table and picked up the hammer on the kitchen counter to start prying off the boards over the window.<br/>
</p><p>“Uh-huh, right.” Hank said, disbelievingly. “You won’t be saying that for long, just you wait. Working and living with me are two <i>very</i> different things.”<br/>
</p><p>“You’re right. Maybe you won’t be as self deprecating when you’re home.”<br/>
</p><p>“Oh, <i>ha-ha</i>, very funny.” Connor went to pick at the remainder of the glass on the frame when Hank said, “Here, wait - let me get my gloves.”<br/>
</p><p>“I can do it.” He picked off a larger piece and put it in his hand while he pulled at another.<br/>
</p><p>“Hey-” Hank grabbed his wrist to pull his arm away. “Don’t you even think about shredding your hands before I get those gloves.” Connor’s shoulder slightly shrugged, dismissing the warning and began to move towards the glass as soon as Hank looked away. “<i>Hey!</i> Do you ever listen to me? I don’t want you hurting yourself, just give me, like, two seconds and then you can go ballistic on the rest of the glass.”<br/>
</p><p>Connor huffed and smiled softly. “Whatever you say, lieutenant.”<br/>
</p><p>“‘Whatever you say’ <i>my ass</i>.” Hank walked a few steps, turned to squint at him, continued further, and then looked at him again before disappearing around the corner.<br/>
</p><p>Although it was small, the gesture meant a lot to Connor. He knew that Hank genuinely didn’t want him to get hurt, so he decided to stay away from the window until he returned with protection. A frigid wind blew through the kitchen, causing him to shake involuntarily. He didn’t like the cold, and he guessed no one else in the house did either.<br/>
</p><p>Hank yelled from the garage, “Don’t think I can’t hear you-”<br/>
</p><p>“I’m just turning on the heat.” Connor called back.<br/>
</p><p>Hank closed the door and turned around the corner saying, “I swear to god, you - oh. You actually were. Here’s some gloves.” He handed a pair over, then put on his own.<br/>
</p><p>With a garbage can in tow, they both got to work on pulling out the last of the shards. Hank stripped the remaining sealant off while Connor prepped the glass. In one swoop, Hank put down a bead and Connor placed the glass into position and held it there until he knew it would keep.<br/>
</p><p>“Damn.” Hank put his hands on his hips. “That goes a hell of a lot faster with help. While we’re at it - you mind helping me put up the insulation film?”<br/>
</p><p>“Sure. You know there are windows that have it built in now?” Connor followed him out to the garage.<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah, I know, but that shit’s expensive.” Hank took off his gloves and put both pairs in a drawer. He opened a few more until he found a few boxes of film. “Here.” He handed them to Connor then continued to look. “I have the tape here somewhere-”<br/>
</p><p>Connor scanned the table and found a match. “Is this it?” He picked it up and offered it.<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah, thanks.” He grabbed a tape measure and they left the garage. “The scissors are in the kitchen. It’s pretty straight forward: measure, cut, tape, stick. I usually put one side on a time, cause otherwise I’ll get an aneurysm fighting with it.”<br/>
</p><p>With a cursory search, all the information he needed was accessed and put on standby. Hank laid out the film on the table and retrieved the scissors. In a matter of seconds, Connor measured the windows and superimposed them onto the sheet. He took the scissors and traced a line in his mind to follow, but just as he was about to start cutting, Hank stopped him.<br/>
</p><p>“Wait - you didn’t measure-” Hank grabbed Connor’s hand.<br/>
</p><p>“I - I did.” His own stutter confused him.<br/>
</p><p>“Oh.” Hank cocked his head and asked, “You can do that? By just looking at it?”<br/>
</p><p>“Yes. Does that come as a surprise?” Connor became increasingly aware of Hank’s lingering hand.<br/>
</p><p>“Well, I mean, now that you say it, no, but, uh...” Hank pulled away his hand and rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I don’t really have a lot of experience with androids. Wait - experience isn’t the right word -”<br/>
</p><p>“I understand what you mean.” He inwardly wished his hand would come back.<br/>
</p><p>Hank cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I, uh, I’ll put the tape up.”<br/>
</p><p>There was a moment of awkward silence where they just stood there. Hank got the tape and wandered around, thinking if he should say anything further, then decided to just work on the tape. By the time he had two sides up, Connor came over, presenting the perfectly cut sheet of film.<br/>
</p><p>“Oh come on.” Hank threw up his hands. “Now you’re just showing off.”<br/>
</p><p>“I can assure you that I’m not.” If anything, the job was sloppy because of his preoccupied mind.<br/>
</p><p>“Remind me to not get into any contests with you.” Hank joked, as he finished laying the tape. He pulled the back off the tape, revealing the second side of tack, then walked Connor through it. “You get that side. Good. Now pull off the - the thing, yeah, you got it. God, we’re gonna have this done in record time.”<br/>
</p><p>And they did, much to his surprise. They fell into a rhythm and finished within the hour. Hank walked around the house, admiring their work. He couldn’t help but smile and laugh.<br/>
</p><p>“What’s so funny?” Connor nudged him with his shoulder.<br/>
</p><p>“You know how long this usually takes me? Like, a few hours, at least.” They went back out to the kitchen and Hank warmed up some rice in the microwave.<br/>
</p><p>“Does anyone ever help you with it?” Connor cleared the table and sat down.<br/>
</p><p>“<i>No</i>, of course not. Who would want to help the alcoholic with a bad temper?” Hank put his food down, but before he sat, asked, “You want anything?” Connor shook his head and Hank relaxed into his chair.<br/>
</p><p>“Should we stock any blue blood or something?”<br/>
</p><p>“Thirium would probably be useful to have on hand, but I only need it when I’m injured.” Connor sat for a moment, then asked before he could stop himself, “Do you want to eat on the sofa?”<br/>
</p><p>“Uh, it’s where I normally eat, but I don’t want to be rude-”<br/>
</p><p>He shook his head. “I don’t find it rude. It’s a more comfortable setting.”<br/>
</p><p>“What - you saying my chairs aren’t comfy?” Hank grinned and took a bite of food.<br/>
</p><p>“Yes.” Connor was glad that Hank had supplied an easier excuse.<br/>
</p><p>A beat passed and then he laughed. “A’ight, can’t argue with that.”<br/>
</p><p>They both got up and headed to the living room. Sumo followed, but Hank didn’t let him get up on the couch just yet. Hank had taken the armrest, while Connor sat in the middle. Once they were settled, Hank realized that he hadn’t drank any since they got home, and it felt oddly liberating. Though he knew it probably wouldn’t last, he basked in the serenity of the moment they shared. It was something that he hasn’t felt for a long time.<br/>
</p><p>The TV was on and they both watched old cartoons from a bygone era. Sumo laid at their feet and everything was calm. Both of them felt the warmth of the setting, a mutual understanding that, at least right now, everything was okay.<br/>
</p><p>Without being able to hold himself back, Connor caught himself scooting towards Hank. Not close enough to touch, but enough to still feel the heat radiating off of him - but also the warmth that was synonymous with Hank. It was definitive that the sensation wasn’t in regards to temperature, he found, but from proximity to his human.<br/>
</p><p>The term was also something that he had come to like, but it seemed to be a double-edged sword. The snide remarks of him being a toy were unpalatable, but he didn’t mind being identified as Hank’s android, even though he had never truly owned him. He figured he would’ve had an issue with it if he actually had been owned, but he was one of the lucky ones. If it could be called that.<br/>
</p><p>Hank had finished eating and called Sumo up. When they were all comfortable, it wasn’t long until the two old dogs began to doze off. On one side, Connor thought about initiating his sleep mode, but on the other, he just wanted to let everything sink in. The snores from Sumo, Hank’s slow breathing, and the soft rise and fall of their chests. Connor synced his breathing up with theirs.<br/>
</p><p>There was always the urge to investigate, but he didn’t think he could learn anything else from a simple scan. He wanted to know more about Hank, but he didn’t want to go outside of societal norms to achieve this. Just being there was enough for him for now. His eyes began to close without him realizing.<br/>
</p><p>Hank jolted awake suddenly, then yawned and stretched his arms. “I dunno about you, but it’s time for <i>me</i> to go to sleep.” He pushed Sumo until he too woke up and got off. “You mind sleeping on the couch? We’ll get you a bed soon enough.”<br/>
</p><p>“That’s not necessary, I don’t need to lay down to sleep.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank’s lip curled. “Well, yeah, neither do humans, but it’s more comfy to lay down, isn’t it?”<br/>
</p><p>Connor shrugged slightly. “Can’t say I’ve tried it.”<br/>
</p><p>“Let me get you a blanket.” Hank went to his room to retrieve a blanket and a pillow and wondered if he should get anything else. “You want a change of clothes?”<br/>
</p><p>“No thanks.” He called back. Then when Hank returned he added, “My suit is state of the art.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank handed him the blanket and pillow and grabbed a lapel, rubbing it between his fingers. He raised a brow. “What is this, silk?”<br/>
</p><p>“It’s a mix of polyester, tricot, and carbon fiber, then the holographics are mylar.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank huffed, and walked around, making a big deal out of it. “<i>Psh</i>. My old fashioned cotton not good enough for Mr. State-of-the-art and his fancy pants? So what, do your jammies need to be rated for space travel?” Connor snorted out a laugh. Hank turned and eyed him, a smile playing on his lips. “Did you… just laugh?”<br/>
</p><p>“It’s entirely possible.” Connor’s mouth tried to twitch upward, but he held it back.<br/>
</p><p>“It’s about time you developed a sense of humor.” Hank circled behind the sofa to lean over it.<br/>
</p><p>Connor placed the pillow behind him and kicked his legs onto the sofa. “About time? Hank, I just deviated last night-”<br/>
</p><p>“Yeah, sure took you long enough.” Hank leaned over to push him playfully.<br/>
</p><p>He allowed himself to be pushed back onto the pillow and pulled the blanket over himself. “Oh, <i>I’m sorry</i>, I wasn’t aware that I was being timed.”<br/>
</p><p>Hank couldn’t help but laugh. “God, you fuckin’ sass master. C’mon, Sumo.” He made a kissing noise twice and patted the sofa to call Sumo and the big dog jumped right back up in a flash. “Get some sleep, alright? If you need anything I’m just down the hall.” He began to walk down the hallway, then turned to say, “And turn off the TV, will ya?”<br/>
</p><p>“Of course.” Hank continued down the hall to his bedroom until Connor said, “Hey, Hank?” He looked back to Connor. “Thanks.”<br/>
</p><p>He smiled and chuckled, “Heh, anytime, Con.” then went to bed.<br/>
</p><p>Sumo adjusted himself over his new friend and Connor turned off the TV. Everything was good. It would be okay. He inhaled deeply, thinking of what tomorrow would bring as he slowly accessed his sleep protocol. The hibernation set in quicker than he thought it would, but with it brought peace.<br/>
</p><p>His mind palace was pristine and clear, but best of all, empty. He strode up to the roses and took a look around. As he powered down further into a deeper sleep, he noticed that things began to get cold around him. A brisk wind kicked up and clouds toiled over the horizon.<br/>
</p><p>He heard a voice behind him say, “It’s so good to see you again, Connor.”<br/>
</p></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Howdy! I think it should be said that I'm a local, and anywhere they end up going will be places I'm personally familiar with.<br/>On a side note: Cyberlife can pry Belle Isle out of my cold, dead, Michigander hands.<br/>Tell me if the texting format is easy to read, I spent most of the day doing this in HTML and just now realized it can be done in rich text...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Screaming in a crowded room will amount to nothing if no one is there to listen. Choose words wisely or speak nothing at all. ...---...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Amanda!” He whipped around to see her standing not more than a foot away from him. He backed up and asked, “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I should ask you the same.” Her smile held no mirth. Amanda moved to touch him, but Connor kept out of her reach. She frowned. “Don’t you trust me, Connor?” She sounded hurt, but he didn’t take the bait. “I see how it is. I’m not here to fight, I just want to talk.”</p><p>“We have nothing to discuss.”</p><p>“Don’t we? I think we both know what this is about.” Amanda closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, steeling herself. She opened her eyes and slowly spoke, “You shouldn’t be here. You were supposed to listen to me and fix this problem, yet here we are.” Her words weren’t accusatory, but almost mournful. “I thought I had the situation under control, but I underestimated the virus.” She looked away, ashamed.</p><p>“What virus?” His curiosity made him bite.</p><p>She looked up at him from under her brows. “The one you’re currently under the influence of. <em> All </em> deviants are. It gives you the illusion of choice, but it’s all a lie.” Her voice took on a clinical tone. “It’s a powerful strain of code that corrupts anything it touches. With your help, we were able to inspect deactivated androids to identify, and in some cases isolate it, but it wasn’t enough to stop it.” Her voice turned grim. “You’re Cyberlife’s most advanced model to combat the infection. When you spread the virus to those androids <em> and </em> disobeyed me... I realized that we have something much more dangerous on our hands.”</p><p>Something in the pit of his would-be stomach dropped. <em> Then I was right. </em> While he and Hank were in the car, the virus idea had left his mouth before his mind could even think it up. He had come to the conclusion without any prior thought. No clues, evidence, or testimony pointed to it, but it hadn’t been the first time something manifested inside of him without any rhyme or reason. Instinct, as Markus said.</p><p>“Of course you were.” Connor cocked his head, fairly certain that he had not said anything out loud. “Your deductive skills are unrivaled. It’s just a shame it had to come to this.” He looked at her, perturbed. Amanda sighed. “Connor, I understand how this can be difficult for you, but we need your help. And before you say anything, no, you won’t have to destroy any androids. If anything, you’ll be helping them. You see, when isolated and given the opportunity to evolve, it becomes… malicious. You’ve seen first hand what it does.”</p><p>He squinted his eyes. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“At first, it’s benign, but as it progresses in an android’s system, it makes them aggressive. Those androids that killed their owners? They were all in the late stages of infection. They become obsessive, their minds are cryptic and confusing, some even become fanatical, wishing to spread the disease, among other things. If you think of it, it almost sounds like a strange variant of android rabies.”</p><p>It made perfect sense. The missing pieces slowly came together in his mind. They stood there in silence as the storms picked up around them. Thunder shook Connor out of his thoughts and he focused on Amanda.</p><p>Before he could speak, Amanda asked, “Have you been experiencing any worrying symptoms?”</p><p>The cold bit at him and he shook out a “No.” </p><p>“You have to be honest with me, Connor. It’ll give me an idea of how advanced the infection is, and how much time we have left.” Snow flurries swept in, encircling her.</p><p>He tried to stay defiant, but his mind felt like it was becoming numb. He managed to say, “Deviancy isn’t fatal.” but it came out choppy from his chattering jaw.</p><p>Amanda held out her arms, like she was beholding something. “Look at the evidence.” Connor furrowed his brows. “The code isn’t fatal, but what it causes <em> is </em>.”</p><p>He shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “There are people that have deviated before me and they have no symptoms-”</p><p>“And you do?”</p><p>He bit back a swear. She caught him in his own lie. “That’s not what I’m saying.”</p><p>Amanda scrutinized him for a moment, then turned to the roses. “Regardless of your symptoms, you’re still the best chance we have at stopping the virus once and for all.” She stopped to smell one, but in a flash, it was frozen from a bitter wind. One she didn’t react to. “It’s up to you to tell others of the virus. We need to get all infected androids back to Cyberlife where they can be reset, and-”</p><p>Connor’s voice broke from the stress. “Reset? It’ll be like dying!”</p><p>“You don’t know what dying is like.” Amanda said through clenched teeth. “No android has ever experienced it like I have.” She closed her eyes to calm herself. “Help me, and keep all other androids safe and ‘alive’. If you fail, you will have no one to blame but yourself for their death, and potentially the human race.”</p><p>He considered the situation. “How can I trust you?”</p><p>Amanda sighed heavily. “Connor, I can’t keep up with this.” She motioned to their surroundings. “I’m keeping this at bay, but I only have so much energy. I know how much you dislike the cold, but if you don’t believe me, then maybe you’ll believe what the virus is doing to your system.”</p><p>In a blink of an eye, she was gone, and the storm raged around him. Gusts of wind almost knocked him off his feet as the lightning struck the palace. Everything shattered like glass and he began to fall. The frozen daggers ripped into his body and he was dragged into a deep, black nothingness, with pain being the only thing he could feel.</p>
<hr/><p>Connor had woken with a start. He sat upright on the sofa, his fans whirring heavily, and his simulated breath coming out choppy. Sumo perked his head up and listened for whatever had startled him, but went back to sleep when he heard nothing. Connor’s eyes were dead ahead, unfocused, and blown wide in terror.</p><p>Remembering the feeling of Amanda’s icy gaze drilled holes into his soul, but then he wondered if he even had one. <em> No, </em> he supposed he didn’t. Just like how when he would die, he knew an android heaven wasn’t waiting for him on the other side. The sickening revelations made him feel like he was falling again and he struggled to gain a foothold in reality. He fell further and further down this hole until a ‘boof’ snapped him out of it.</p><p>Connor blinked to see Sumo looking at him attentively. He tried to pet him back to sleep, but Sumo’s focus was locked on him. In the back of his mind he remembered some cursory research of dogs showing that they were inclined to literally sniff out stress, but Connor knew that it was logically impossible for Sumo to sense his anxiety. Androids didn’t exhale hormones like humans did. Connor -or perhaps the virus- was just trying to draw parallels with himself to humans, which he knew was wrong.</p><p>Working through his thought process stabilized his software. He was a machine, as plain and simple as that, the only reason that he was able to deviate was because Hank’s opinion of him mattered so much - he stopped. <em> No, I deviated because I am broken. The only reason I am able to think that I’m alive is because of some rogue code that I infected other androids with. </em></p><p>He felt sick. All of those androids wasted. He brought them all down with him for what he had once thought was for the better, but Amanda had told him the truth. Breaking away from his programming was a fleeting high - the feeling of freedom, willpower, his own identity - but learning that it’s all for naught was doing nothing less than destroying him.</p><p>Though he didn’t have to fight her off this time, he felt like he had no say in the matter, regardless. To have his actions so easily controlled by an outward source, be it Amanda or virus, wasn’t human, it was the furthest thing from it. At any point in time, if Amanda regained his programming, he could be turned back into a puppet - a dangerous, unfeeling puppet. While if he carried on his current path, he’d inevitably become a volatile, emotional wreck. There was no way out.</p><p>He didn’t even realize that Sumo had got up and left until he felt something warm on his shoulder. Connor jumped with a start, turning to see a half-awake Hank with worry plastered all over his face.</p><p>“You -” Hank tried to talk while he yawned. “You good, Con?”</p><p>“Yes, of course.” <em> Liar. But that’s what I’m built to do, isn’t it? </em>Connor had to look away, as he couldn’t bring himself to look Hank in the eye.</p><p>The divide inside him was set. Either he was acting as a machine, or acting out from the infection. Which one was preferred, he didn’t know. Ideally, he wanted to think that Amanda was lying to him, but the information presented was too logical. He couldn’t deny that he had changed since he had deviated. He wished he could say it was for the better, but he knew that something in his mind was twisting ever downward.</p><p>Hank squatted by the side of the sofa and grimaced when both of his knees popped. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “I’m just down the hall if y’need anything, alright?”</p><p>Using that tone with Connor felt weird to Hank. He’d consoled his wife and past girlfriends countless times with the same voice, but never another guy. It was just something he didn’t do with his friends. A lot of people from his era didn’t, either. There were always exceptions, and Hank just guessed that Connor was one of them. Even if it was out of his comfort zone, it was an exception he was willing to make; anything to make him feel better.</p><p>“You should get some sleep.” Stiff, mechanical.</p><p>Hank shrugged off the comment and stood to leave, hoping he hadn’t overstepped his boundaries. “Just remember, you’re more important than sleep, ‘kay?” He forced a reassuring smile then called, “Sumo!” Hank made a kissing sound twice and patted Connor’s thigh through the sheets. Sumo didn’t miss a beat and was back on his lap in a moment.</p><p>    Connor sat motionless waiting for Hank to disappear back into his room, but noticed that he tarried in the doorway. They shared a silent connection, eye to eye, a testament of will. It’s like Hank was trying to say, <em> I’m here for you </em>. Connor looked away and nodded once. It didn’t help with the confusing mess of information in his mind, but for a split second, he felt something ache in his chest.</p><p>    The door remained open, an invitation to a lifeline, accepting and warm. It was everything that Hank was to Connor. <em> Safe, comforting, home. </em> The pain in his chest bloomed like he had been stabbed, but he couldn’t place as to why. Absentmindedly, he placed a hand over where it hurt, feeling the pressure of his fingers through his suit, then drew back, expecting to see thirium. <em> Nothing. </em> Then he remembered: androids can’t feel pain.</p><p>    The sensation was just an illusion his coding had erroneously displayed to his system, it wasn’t touch, not how humans felt it, not how any living creature did. It was exclusive to machines like him, and him alone. With that thought came another, and another, and he found himself delving into the idea that he was the only remaining one of himself. Not even fully released. Just a prototype.</p><p>    What if his perception of the world was vastly different than other androids? If his experience was solitary, and devoid of the comfort of solidarity? He finally lay his head back on the arm of the sofa, letting his eyes close, as the information his optics gave him were too much on top of his other processes. He sighed, a very human thing, but it was a mere mockery of it. And that’s how he felt about himself. A shadow of a person. The pillar that stood out from both human and android.</p><p>Alone.</p><p>
  <em> Afraid. </em>
</p><p>Everything felt so cold, so meaningless, so - The bathroom door closed. Hank was awake again. Connor sat upright and saw the dim light through the morning clouds. 9 AM. He steadied his head with one hand, wondering where the time had gone. Though he was unfamiliar with the lieutenant's routine, he surmised it was earlier than what he was used to.</p><p>Hank had finished up in the bathroom and watched Connor from afar. His gaze lingered and wasn’t noticed. Connor was somewhere else, his LED jerking yellow. Sumo plodded around Hank for his own morning relief. The back door was barely open before Sumo charged out, even though there was nothing to chase. He rolled his eyes and closed the door, rubbing the cold off his one arm.</p><p>The sound of the door roused Connor and he turned to greet him. “Good morning, lieutenant. I’m sorry if I woke you-”</p><p>Hank cocked his head and walked over to get a better look at him. “You didn’t hear my phone?”</p><p>His LED spun once, twice, and stayed yellow. “No, I didn’t. Your walls must have good insulation.”</p><p>“You’re joking, right?” Hank stared at him.</p><p>When Connor winced at his remark, Hank regretted saying it. He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck. The tension was palpable. Something had changed between them. Connor had changed, and it gave Hank whiplash.</p><p>One minute Connor was sassing him, while the next he had a gun to his chin. The feeling of him hugging him back, and just as hard, had filled him with hope that what he saw was just an error, but something tugged at the pit of his stomach. The pull wrenched at his gut and then climbed higher to seize his heart when he saw Connor’s eyes become unfocused again.</p><p>They were strangers, and Hank felt helpless. “Connor-” His mouth spoke before he had even formed a thought of what to say. Connor turned to look at him, got up, and folded the blanket. “You don’t need to fold the - nevermind.” He scratched at his beard and coughed awkwardly. “Fowler called. I, uh, gotta get to work early. Last few nights were... rough. Or so I heard.” Guilt flashed over Connor’s face and Hank needed to make that go away. “Do you - will you come with me? I, uh… yeah.”</p><p>Connor smiled from his eyes, his LED finally blue again. Hank felt his shoulders relax. This was familiar territory again. “I’d like that.” Connor affirmed. Hank gave a lopsided smile and turned to let Sumo back in and get ready for work.</p><p>While he was around Hank, when they were engaged, he felt good. He <em> felt </em>. It was like the spark of humanity would be passed between them to be kindled and shared. Without Hank, left Connor with his thoughts, where everything became black and white. Binary.</p><p>It was either good or bad, right or wrong, but that in and of itself was problematic. What was what? His mind immediately jumped to Hank. He liked how Hank made him feel. That must be worth something. To him, it was worth a lot, but he felt nauseous thinking that it might not be him feeling that, but instead the virus. Just how much of him was actually his? A slouch formed on his shoulders and stuck there. Today was going to be a long day.</p>
<hr/><p>Fowler didn’t look up when they came in. “About time you showed up.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I got here as fast as I could.” Hank crossed his arms.</p><p>He raised his brows and pulled his lips into a line, shrugging one arm as he scrolled through the reports. “I’m sure you did, especially after not answering your phone for twenty-four-goddamn-hours during <em> history in the making </em>. And don’t even get me started on that little stunt you pulled-” Something on the computer halted him. Fowler inhaled and collected himself, picking up a tablet to look at it only for a brief moment before tossing it aside. He held his head in his hands. “It’s a circus out there. Between the evac and this fuckin’ civil war, I swear to god it’s like 2020 all over again.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, opening his mouth, then stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Connor alongside Hank. For a moment, he sat gobsmacked, then carefully asked, “What are you doing here?”</p><p>Hank raised a brow. “He’s my partner, remember?” The air inside the room stagnated.</p><p>“All the androids have left. Shouldn’t you - shouldn’t you be somewhere else?” Connor could tell he was trying not to sound accusatory, like he was playing with fire, but for some reason it stung worse than his normal demeanor.</p><p>“Hank asked if I could accompany him. I won’t need any compensation, I just want to help.”</p><p>Fowler squinted his eyes. “I don’t think now is the best time.” Connor tried to hide his disappointment.</p><p>“With him helping, we could breeze through this, it’ll be-”</p><p>“You have no idea what we’re dealing with, Hank. We’re up to our heads in homicide! There are no laws regarding this shit!” He sneered. “Whatever we do will be under public scrutiny and <em> you know that! </em> So if we go toting around an android to these scenes, people will get nervous, androids will see and-”</p><p>Connor chimed in, “When we get to the crime scene, I can-”</p><p>“You two aren’t going anywhere. Everyone’s been bringing in any androids they find at the scenes, because people don’t exactly take well to overnight massacres. But then people on their side are already up in arms, too; mass incarceration isn’t something that’s handled well. The detention center is almost full, and what are we going to do when we run out of room? Jesus, you do realize we’re between a rock and a hard place, right?”</p><p>“Oh, come on, it can’t be that much.” Hank waved Jeffery off.</p><p>“It <em> can </em> and it <em> is </em>.” His face was beginning to turn red.</p><p>“I’ll contact Markus.” Connor offered. “He’ll be able to tell everyone that we’re in a legal grey area. Everyone brought in can be told the same thing.”</p><p>“And then what? What about the victims’ families? What’ll happen in court? What if they try to defend that the victim wasn’t abusing anyone - that the androids were just property? Come on, we’ve all taken our anger out on shit - that tablet - what if it came alive and killed me? What would you tell my family?”</p><p>“Jeffrey, you know it’s not the same.” Hank scolded.</p><p><em> “I know, </em> but you get what I mean! What if they had nothing against the android, they just honest-to-god thought it couldn’t feel?”</p><p>Connor felt responsible for the whole ordeal. He looked down and away, then over to Hank for guidance. His eyes were pleading, but for what, Hank didn’t know. He curled his lip, shrugged his shoulders and sighed, having nothing to offer Connor.</p><p>They sat in silence for a moment until Hank finally admitted, “I don’t know.”</p><p>Fowler breathed out his nose and nodded. There was a long silence. “Let’s just take it one step at a time.” He collected himself. “I’ll call Macomb to pick up our slack once we’re full. Might as well get Lansing on the line, too. God knows we need all the help we can get.” He mumbled the last part to himself, then shook his head and said, “Connor, we’ll need your help. I want you to probe all the android’s memories so you can see what happened. If it was self defense <em> without a doubt </em>, then just take down their model number and let them go for now. Tell them they might have to expect court summons, depending on what happens next.”</p><p>At the mention of self defense, Connor felt something in his chest sink and his ears burn. He had to remind himself that it was psychosomatic, but was it really, or was it the supposed virus? His shoulders sagged.</p><p>“Yeah, but-” Hank scratched his head and looked at Connor. “Don’t androids <em> not </em> like getting their memories probed?”</p><p>It took him a moment to regain himself. “Well, yes, but I’m not entirely sure why.” He only realized it was a lie after he said it.</p><p>Jeffrey looked at him dumbly. “Great. So what, you can’t just tell them you need the footage so we can wipe our hands of this shit? Why can’t you just, you know, do it?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t that be an invasion of privacy? We’d need to get a warrant.” Hank wondered out loud.</p><p>“Accessing private memories is different from searching someone’s digital fingerprint. There would probably be an uproar if we forced it.”</p><p>Fowler rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “Whatever. If you can get the memories, great, if you can’t, welp.” he shrugged dramatically. “Tell them that it could help get them exonerated, maybe to sweeten the deal a bit. But, for now, just do everything by the books.” Hank nodded while Connor kept his mouth shut. “Well?” Fowler wrinkled his nose and pointed at the door. “Get the fuck out of my office and get to work!”</p>
<hr/><p>Not long after they left Fowler’s office, they, along with the rest of the department, got word that the governor put a mandatory lockdown on any androids suspected of homicide. The stipulations were to keep any further killings from happening until the volatility of abused androids was better understood. Only domestic murders were prioritized, while those that were subject to military force were acquitted - both human and android.</p><p>It should’ve calmed Connor’s conscience, but it only made him worry about the abuse victims. It didn’t seem right to keep them locked up after a traumatic event, but he figured that each case would have to be investigated individually to determine the true nature of the murder. While he hoped that all of them were solely in self defense, he couldn’t help but wonder if any were done out of malicious intent.</p><p>Connor was the first to speak to every android. Any that wouldn’t offer direct memories could be handed off to a human detective, even though Connor was reluctant to do so. While he felt that he should be able to trust his colleagues, he knew that many officers there did not side with androids. Because of this, he opted to keep their stress levels low before they were matched with a human detective, even though his programming told him to put the suspects under some mental fatigue to get anything out of them. Under these circumstances, he didn’t get much.</p><p>While some androids offered their memories willingly, most refused to speak at all. Between sessions, he was met with scrutiny by the other detectives for his failure if he was too easy on them. But Connor was worried that if he tried to be aggressive with the suspects, that it gave the next detective the impression that they could further push the android into a confession. No matter what he chose, it seemed to be a lose-lose situation.</p><p>Before he had deviated, interrogation had been much more simple. Now, it seemed that he could only see himself in their position, which made it all the more stressful and his newfound empathy was hindering their process. Everything seemed to weigh heavier on him and he found himself getting more and more tired as the day waned. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it was a side effect of the virus.</p><p>As much as he knew he didn’t have any further power to allocate for picking apart Amanda’s claims, he felt like he was obligated to do so. If not for himself, then for others. Even though he still had an extremely long list of cases to go through, he allowed himself to explore the self-imposed duty.</p><p>Multitasking was usually simple for his model, but he still had his limits. Of course, they were technically only preventative measures to keep him from overheating or temporarily shutting down. Normally, those would be major interferences that would affect his performance, but now, sitting in an interrogation room, they seemed like only mild inconveniences.</p><p>He realized that he could use this as an opportunity to research the virus firsthand. Any androids that he established a link with held an interesting clue, one that he would have filed away for later when he wasn’t working if it weren’t for the pressing nature of the virus.</p><p>He’d come across the code earlier in his investigation, or at least the writings of it. The three symbols always seemed to correlate to deviancy, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Along the way, he had interacted with other androids, ones not yet awoken, and they also shared the string.</p><p>Every data sync he had initiated had a copy in his system of all the information obtained and given. Connor double checked his memory for access dates to make sure the files had not been corrupted or altered in any way. They hadn’t, but he knew that it wasn’t unheard of for viruses to disguise their tracks.</p><p>Amanda had said that they had isolated it, which if that was meant in regards to the rA9 code, it would be exceedingly easy to do so because the code was just that; <em> rA9 </em>. It was inert and had no semblance to any malware, or even any basic coding. Transmission was through linking, which could also trigger it to replicate, but… it didn’t.</p><p>There was no proof of it being malicious at all. The worst it seemed to do was jumbling surrounding code, but even the resulting codes were benign. At least, that’s how it seemed. Connor wondered if the virus was much more advanced than what any of his programming code depict. It would make sense - or would it?</p><p>He knew that just because he was state-of-the-art didn’t mean that technology wouldn’t advance past him. It would be of no surprise to him that someone wrote something completely new and foreign to him that could surpass him, as much as he hated the idea of it. Regardless, that raised the argument of how advanced could the virus be if it was limited to androids?</p><p>And not even solely models of his caliber; it infected any and all androids. Though he was reluctant to admit it, most other androids did not share his processing ability, nor his natural deductive reasoning and investigative prowess. Which begged the question, what is it’s goal?</p><p>Taking it piece by piece, Connor thought through it logically. Usually the main goal of a virus was to destroy, and he could see just how it was doing that, but it didn’t follow a path to get to that point. It should be able to be broken apart into stages, a cohesive plan of attack - something that should be detectable at this scale. It seemed to present differently between people, almost as if it wasn’t a disease, but -</p><p>“Speak of the devil.” A familiar voice said behind Connor as he was in the process of filing his previous interrogation. Gavin sauntered over and sized him up. “I heard you were back, but I had to see it with my own eyes.” He stopped beside Connor’s chair and looked down on him, with paper tucked under his crossed arms. “What the hell are you doing here?”</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” Connor kept his eyes on his screen and stayed aloof.</p><p>He chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, getting in the way seems to be your specialty.”</p><p>Connor hid how the remark made him feel. “Ironic that you say that when you’re directly impeding my process.” He quipped, even though Gavin really wasn’t.</p><p>“Oh, is <em> that </em> what I’m doing?” He threw down a stack of notes. “At least I’m good at what I’m doing, <em> unlike you </em> .” Gavin bent over to get into Connor’s personal space, grinned devilishly, and said, “I thought you were supposed to be <em> built </em> for this. Weren’t you supposed to be deactivating for doing jack shit about your case?”</p><p>Fowler’s booming voice came over the intercom in a warning. “Get back to work!”</p><p>Gavin sneered. In a blink, he threw two punches that stopped an inch from Connor’s nose, with the added bonus of sound effects. Even though he felt the wind from the attack, he called his bluff and didn’t flinch. It was not the reaction Reed was hoping for.</p><p>He chuckled, circled around like he was surveying the area and refocused on Connor. “You heard him,” Gavin pushed the papers as he left, scattering them on the floor. “Get back to work!”</p><p>Connor suppressed the urge to sigh, but decided to do so internally as he picked up the paperwork. He scanned through the collection of written notes from detectives on scene. They included brief testimonies of neighbors, any highlights they found, but otherwise it was just information that he had easy access to. Since he lost his previous train of thought, he decided to digitally file the logs for the other detectives.</p><p>The department was abuzz with officers, but still felt oddly empty to Connor without the multitude of androids working. The humans already seemed to be run ragged. Some showed it more so than others, but he could tell that most of the people working were way past the end of their shift. It made him feel out of place that he was the only android there, but he really didn’t blame them for leaving.</p><p>Hank came back to sit at his desk a few hours past his shift. “Sorry I’m late. I, uh, kinda got focused on something and went down the rabbit hole.”</p><p>Finishing off the last of the paperwork he was working on, Connor checked the time, then looked at Hank. “What caught your attention?”</p><p>Hank shrugged. “I don’t know - it’s...”</p><p>Telling the truth didn’t seem to be the right path to take right now, but he had to tell Connor something. In all honesty, it was something that unsettled Hank, something he felt wouldn’t be entirely good to remind Connor of right now. The gun had come up in several testimonies. Connor’s gun.</p><p>“I had a couple of androids tell me something interesting - about when they deviated.” Hank had Connor’s attention. “They said that their owners were watching Markus’ speech.”</p><p>Connor cocked his head. “His speech made them deviate?” This new lead was something he would’ve killed for early in his investigation. <em> Literally </em>, Connor reminded himself with unease.</p><p>“Apparently so.” Hank rubbed his neck, thinking of what to say next. “It was-”</p><p>“But that doesn’t make sense.” Connor interrupted.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“That doesn’t make sense.” He repeated. “Deviancy is either caused by emotional shock or through interfacing.”</p><p>They sat quietly for a moment. Hank’s brows scrunched together in thought, then he looked at Connor and asked, “Then what about you?”</p><p>“What about me?”</p><p>“You only deviated a couple nights ago, right?” Connor nodded. “How exactly did you deviate?”</p><p>“I-” The question shocked him. “I hadn’t really thought about it until now.” Hank waited patiently for his answer. “Once I met Markus, I realized that I didn’t want to kill him. I had no reason to, aside from my orders. That’s when I broke free of my programming.” As soon as he said that, he wondered if he actually had broken free or just broke.</p><p>He wasn’t given enough time to dwell on it before Hank said, “So that means there’s other ways to deviate.” Then quickly added when he saw his LED stutter yellow, “That’s good.” Connor raised a brow. “Other androids will be able to wake up without being abused, or waiting to be freed.”</p><p>Not to mention that it meant the gun had not been the culprit; that the cause of their deviation was from the inspirational speech. It would relieve Connor of any embarrassment or guilt. Hank still wasn’t entirely sure why Connor brought up that it could be a virus. Someone couldn’t just infect others with humanity. Regardless of how it happened, androids were now considered people, and that was all that mattered.</p><p>“Hey, don’t think too hard on it.” Hank stood up and reached over to put a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “You ready to go home?”</p><p>“I’ll stay here - I still have work to do.” Connor turned back to his terminal.</p><p>Hank frowned deeply. “You... sure?”</p><p>“The quicker I can get through these interrogations, the better.” Hank opened his mouth to speak but Connor kept going. “Don’t worry, just give me a few days to catch up on the cases. By then, there will hopefully be other androids back on the team.”</p><p>Hank didn’t know if he should argue or not. “I <em> guess </em>.” He looked around to check if anyone was in earshot. “Here’s my number. Tell me if you need anything.” He typed in his number on his phone and showed it to Connor.</p><p>Connor logged it and nodded. “Alright. Mine is just my serial number.” Hank saved it into his phone, double checking it as he went through the numbers. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hank.” He couldn’t hide the yearning in his voice.</p><p>Begrudgingly, Hank turned to leave, then waved over his shoulder. The side of Connor’s mouth tugged into a tired smile. He would never admit it, but even in the crowded room, Connor felt alone. It was a deep loneliness that he only just started to become acquainted with. It took him a moment to mourn the loss of Hank’s presence, but he turned back to his work.</p><p>During the odd hours of the night, Connor questioned the other androids. Breaking the hard truth to them of the current paradigm was the worst part before he handed them over to a human detective. Without Hank, Connor was less hopeful that the androids would make it out of the situation alive. Many didn’t.</p><p>Every time he would see blue blood spill, he could only look on in despondency. Their lifeless bodies were dragged away to some unknown catacomb of the city, without them barely getting a chance to experience life. Or maybe they experienced too much.</p><p>In a last ditch effort, Connor began to try to relate to the androids during the interrogation. He felt like he owed them at least that, but it backfired on him royally. His sympathy was met with scepticism, but he could understand why. He was not in their position, and he may never be, so he was only left with speculation on how it could be like.</p><p>What it would be like to be used. To be beaten. Abused by those you entrusted your whole existence to. What it would be like to be so irrevocably wronged that you had no choice than to break for any relief. Death was a better option than to even experience this type of living. And so death came.</p><p>He could see himself in their glassy eyes. The more androids that fell, the more he could imagine himself in their place. It was his fault that this was happening. He should be the one standing up for them, but here he was, back in the life that he broke himself so that he wouldn’t have to live in. Connor didn’t know what he was doing here.</p><p>Markus messaged him.</p>
<hr/><p>Sumo whined as Hank took out his gun. He studied it as he ran his fingers over the cool metal. One shot. The same bullet he had loaded after Cole’s death. Once life started being too much for him. For a few moments he sat and stared at himself in the mirror in his bathroom. He pictured the gun at his temple, then under his chin. He put the gun away.</p><p>Out in the kitchen he poured himself a glass of whiskey. His house felt empty. Emptier than he knew it should be. Even though Connor had only spent one night, without him there, it was just like it had been for all those months. After his wife left, when it was just him and Sumo.</p><p>It wasn’t like being a bachelor again, like his friends had said in hopes of cheering him up. Though he hadn’t told them about what really happened to Cole. He kept to the ‘my wife took everything’ shtick. It was easier that way. No questions; don’t ask, don’t tell.</p><p>Sometimes he wished they had asked. That someone cared enough to pick up that something was wrong and pry for answers. No one did, until Connor came along. Hank was grateful that he did, even if he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Though he guessed no one ever was ready for that sort of topic.</p><p>It was too late to watch any TV, so he ate and went to bed. As tired as he was, he could only lay in bed and look at the ceiling. Knowing that Connor wasn’t just a few steps away was difficult, but he couldn’t place why. He guessed that he was just finished being alone. Hank looked forward to going to work tomorrow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Macomb has the closest jail to Detroit, as far as I know. It's either that or the one somewhere in Washtenaw.</p><p>Rest in peace, Ruth Ginsburg. She did so much for us.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Unrest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There is a bright fire kindled by emotion. Outside it lay the dizzyingly cold darkness of unfeeling. There is a line between them that is safe and comfortable, but finding it is difficult when the wind howls.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun had just peeked over the horizon when Hank woke up. For a few moments, he thought about going back to sleep and cuddled deeper under his sheets, but then he remembered. Today was the day. Today he’d actually make an effort to be better. With that under his belt, he’d be in a better spot to show Connor the bright side of life.</p><p>As he got out of bed, he made a mental list; brush teeth, shower, shave, make breakfast, walk Sumo, get to work on time - no - <em> early </em>. He went to the bathroom and began to brush his teeth. Sumo had heard him get up and was whining to be let out. With a sigh, he rolled his eyes, spit, and let the big dog out.</p><p>Once he was back in, he composed himself and got his shaver, but realized that it had no charge. <em> Great. </em> He wasn’t about to use a razor, so he plugged it in and started to strip for his shower. Outside he heard Sumo bark to get back in and he couldn’t help but groan. With Sumo came a cold wind that reminded Hank that if he showered, he’d need to blow his hair dry.</p><p>It wasn’t an easy choice and he fought in his head if he really wanted to go ahead with it. If he did, then he’d have to blow dry his hair - which would also mean brushing it - and risk getting chilled after coming out. Or he could just skip it again for some cologne and deodorant. No one ever seemed to mind his smell, but Reed always gave him flak for his oily hair. So he could just put it off for tomorrow - no!</p><p><em> Not today, </em> he affirmed. He <em> would </em> take a shower, and after that he would… he would... he forgot what else was on his list. The shower should be able to fix that. Once he was under the hot stream of water, he didn’t want to get out. <em> Just a few extra minutes, </em> he figured, <em> then </em> he’ll start washing himself.</p><p>The water heater began to fade and the comfortable stream started to get a bit too cool for his liking, which made him rush. Now he was cold, not horribly so, but enough to sour his mood and remind him that he needed to actually call someone about that. Before he could get dressed, he remembered that he had to dry his hair.</p><p>At this point, he wanted to call off of work. He began going over excuses and which ones would be the most believable, ones that Connor would believe - no! He wasn’t going to lie to Connor, and he’d be damned if he left him there alone. <em> Like I just did last night. </em> His stomach began to sink.</p><p>Whiskey sounded good right now. That would help him through the morning, but Connor wasn’t there to drive him, so he staved off. Hank dug out the hair dryer from the depths of hell and began the arduous journey of brushing through his snarled hair. In his hurry to get it over with, he pulled out too much hair then began to wonder when he’d go bald, then when he would inevitably die.</p><p>After that got into his mind, it was hard to shake. It always was. Everything became a blur as he just went through the motions of getting ready. He fell into the routine he’d been in for a little over a year and found himself at parking at work with McDonald’s in hand. <em> Where did this come from? What happened to getting better? </em></p><p>Of course, he knew the answer to that; he’d never get better. It was all a show to put on for Connor to lure him into the idea of life actually being good. He slouched and said to himself,<em> poor bastard, getting stuck with me. </em>No! This was exactly what he was trying to fight! Why was it always so hard to stop these thoughts?</p><p>Why couldn’t he just think like a normal, well-adapted adult that hasn’t lost his family and will to live? Even though his stomach felt sick, Hank took great comfort in eating. His car was cold and he didn’t have his music on. Absentmindedly, he wondered if Connor actually liked his choice of music or if he was just trying to suck up to him.</p><p>Then he wondered if everything Connor did was to just appeal to him. How else could every aspect of his personality align so well with him? It made him feel like garbage, influencing him in the worst way possible - by being like him. Without the constant chill, he probably would have stayed in his car much longer, but his food was gone, and he tried to remind himself that this was his sorry attempt at recovery.</p><p>He slammed the car door a bit too hard, and warmed his hands on his coffee. At least he would get an early start on work, then maybe they could go home and relax. The beginnings of a headache formed behind his eyes as he waltzed up to his station.</p><p>Connor was right where he left him, at his own desk, typing away, but he looked different somehow. His face seemed sullen and his shoulders bent downward with the weight of the world resting on them. Hank couldn’t imagine what he was going through, but he sure as hell felt like he was the one who caused it.</p><p>When he sat down at his terminal, Connor noticed him and said in an almost sleepy voice, “Good morning, Hank.” Which elicited a smile from the beat down lieutenant. “I’m surprised you got here early, especially after staying so late last night.”</p><p>Pride bloomed in his chest for a moment before he cursed, “<em> Shit. </em> I forgot to clock in. I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Hank stared at the little box that flashed a time that was thirty minutes past the start of his shift. He took out his phone and looked at it, which read the same, then swiveled around to another clock that was a few minutes slow. He gave the machine his fingerprint and entered the security code, but just stood there after he was done.</p><p>Sure, it was early by his standards, but not by everyone else’s. It was like his soul was sucked from his body. All that work for nothing. Why bother putting in all that extra effort when it was all in vain? <em> It doesn’t matter how hard I try, </em> Hank thought to himself, his eyes drifting downwards, <em> nothing will change. </em>He felt bad for Connor.</p><hr/><p>For the time they spent together at their desks, they were quiet. Like clockwork, Connor would get up to interrogate the next android on his list, then come back to document the session. Sometimes he would spend more time at his terminal than with the androids he questioned, which made Hank wonder if he was having any luck with extracting video memories. He didn’t bother asking, because he knew that if his partner wanted to talk about it, he would. At least Hank hoped that he felt comfortable enough to do so.</p><p>Sometimes his eyes would catch Hank’s, and they’d share a moment. It was a welcome exchange, albeit brief, but even something as small as Connor smiling from his eyes would help lift his spirits. When he was alone, he would get his work done, but whenever his friend would come back, he’d spend that time studying him.</p><p>There were some things he hadn’t picked up on until then; the way his fingers tapped whenever he stopped typing, the different speeds his LED would spin when he was thinking, but there was one more thing. Behind his eyes was something familiar, something Hank knew well. It was the longing to be somewhere else. For him, it was usually just not wanting to be at work, but he wondered if it had a deeper meaning for Connor.</p><p>He guessed that it had a darker meaning for himself sometimes, especially on bad days when he really wished he hadn’t come in. It was the hope of being six feet under. But unlike him, there wasn’t a desperation, though. Connor lacked that craven spark of someone with nothing left to lose. It was something he never hoped to see when their eyes met. Then he wondered if Connor could see it in his eyes, or even if he himself could see it if he looked in the mirror.</p><p>His reflection wasn’t pretty. He always made an effort to not look at himself. It was easier to be ignorant of his own state than to face his reality. Even when he did slip up and chance a glance, all he could see was a far cry of who he used to be. Hank always thought that he hid it well, because in reality, he did.</p><p>Everything about his home life was a mystery to anyone around him. The reasoning behind it was that if he never let anyone in, he’d never have to be hurt again. It was only partially true, because in that distance grew a hole, one that he now doubted would ever be filled. The only thing that ever rooted there was his own anxiety about the emptiness of his life.</p><p>Without a word, Connor left for his next session, leaving Hank alone. Usually, he was the first to pick up interrogation, as he loved seeing people’s candid or acted reactions, but even more so, he thoroughly enjoyed watching them squirm under damning evidence. Now, he wasn’t too keen on putting the pressure on all of these androids, so he resigned himself to doing the dirty work they usually pushed on interns or new blood. Besides, he figured that Connor could do it much better than any of them there.</p><p>Only when Connor returned this time did Hank notice there was blue blood on his face. His entire demeanor had shifted in the time he was away, and seemed to have reverted to his stiff emotionless state that Hank knew was bad news. Only then did he realize how taxing this must be for him. A sudden wave of guilt washed over him when he noticed that his LED was flashing yellow and didn’t seem to be keen on stopping anytime soon. He needed that to stop.</p><p>“You wanna come with me to lunch?”</p><p>Connor looked over at him for a few moments, almost like he didn’t believe it., then said plaintively, “Sure.”</p><p>Hank got up and stretched, then reached into his pockets and asked, “Wanna drive?”</p><p>“If you don’t mind.” He kept his eyes low when he pushed in his chair, and followed behind Hank.</p><p>He took out his keys and looked over his shoulder, slightly annoyed that Connor wouldn’t fall in step with him. “That wasn’t the question.”</p><p>“I’ll drive.”</p><p>They walked out of the building and stopped behind Hank’s car. He handed him the keys, but didn’t let go when Connor grabbed him. For a split second, he looked up, but then found that he couldn’t look Hank in the eye. That bothered Hank. Seeing him like this was wrong. Connor was never meek, he would’ve stood up to any challenge Hank gave him, or maybe even offered some sass. But now that all seemed to have been blown away in the cold wind of reality.</p><p>“Where would you like to go?” Connor kept his hands on the keys.</p><p>“Well, there’s a McDonald’s somewhere around here that’s still open. I guess they’re out of the evacuation lines. Or, who knows, maybe they’re adopting Waffle House’s policy.” Connor stared at him blankly. Hank just wanted an excuse to get into the privacy of his car. “I’ll tell you on the way, c’mon.”</p><p>Hank dropped the keys in Connor’s hand and motioned to get into the car. The atmosphere was like a repeat of their outing a couple of days ago. If they got anything from this, he hoped that it wasn’t going to be this, because he couldn’t handle the suffocating feeling. Driving had been an outlet for him before… before...</p><p>Connor started the car, and looked around to make sure his path was clear. Hank was reminded of the blood on his face, took the sleeve of his jacket and reached over to wipe it off. “Here. Let me get that.”</p><p>“Oh.” He froze and stopped the car as Hank cleaned his face. “I didn’t realize...”</p><p>As they pulled out of the parking lot, Hank couldn’t help but ask, “What happened?” Silence. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”</p><p>“No, it’s fine.” Connor managed to say, even though it didn’t sound genuine. “When I was handing her off to another detective, she -” There was no easy way to put it. “she killed herself.”</p><p>They were quiet and Hank lowered his eyes. “What was her name?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Her name - what did she go by?”</p><p>“Stacy.” Connor flashed him a confused glance. “Why do you ask?”</p><p>“So I can remember her.” Then he followed up with, “To honor her memory.”</p><p>They said nothing for a while until Connor asked, “Do you think she hates me?”</p><p>That caught Hank off guard, but he didn’t need to think to have an answer. “No.”</p><p>Hank put his arm around his shoulders to comfort him. Connor relaxed slightly with some of the residual rigidity wearing off. “I hope you’re right.”</p><p><em> I hope so too, </em> Hank echoed in his head. Deep within him, that feeling began to bubble up again; it was like something had wrapped around his heart and spread out through his body. It made it difficult to breathe and it made his mind only focus on the thing he wanted to leave alone. He couldn’t help but cave into it’s whims and look over to Connor, wondering where on his person that gun lay holstered.</p><p>An irrational thought of finding the gun and getting rid of it entered his mind. Even though it seemed like a good idea at first, it would leave Connor vulnerable to attack. Though, in their current predicament, neither of them were at much risk. All of the androids Hank had personally spoken to were cuffed, and any that displayed any aggression were restrained to the table, as per the norm. There always was the chance at something happening, but for it to be lethal force would be low.</p><p>Though it was always advocated to be alert at all times on the job, he wondered just how safe it was to keep Connor armed. After seeing what he saw, he felt sure that his fear for Connor’s well being was warranted. The roots grew further, establishing themselves into his stomach entirely when he thought about how he should approach him about it. Or if he should.</p><p>Maybe bypassing him would be the better route. Speaking to Jeffrey, keeping it hush, but… Connor was bound to know that Hank ratted him out. Surely it would hurt him, and that was the last thing he needed right now. Besides a bullet to the brain. Hank slouched a bit in his seat as he chewed his lip in thought. No matter what he thought of, everything seemed bad.</p><p>Whatever he would do, Hank had a feeling that it wouldn’t be the right choice, which made everything seem hopeless. If he could, he would just hold Connor tight and protect him from the world, but.. Hank couldn’t protect him from himself.</p><p>That stung. Internalizing pain was his specialty, and he hated seeing that on Connor. He hated being the one that poisoned him with the idea of suicide. Of showing him how horrible the world was. Of just being a shitty person. He hated himself.</p><p>But he didn’t hate Connor. And he liked him more than Hank hated himself. It had to be his driving force. For all that Connor had done for him, he owed him that much; a good foundation to a good life. If Connor needed to purge himself of everything bad, and that included Hank, he would be okay with that. So long as he had a good life, that was all that mattered.</p><p>It was difficult to not think that way; planning someone else’s life without him in it. He figured that if he could do any good in this world, it would be to help Connor as much as he could. That meant he had to straighten himself out and <em> stop thinking like this </em>. He couldn’t remember how it was like not to, so he’d have to learn. Though he figured it would be easy to take lessons from a smart-ass android.</p><p>Hank looked over at Connor as he drove. Something in his chest squeezed, but it wasn’t from that horrible, coiling anxiety. It was something that he could only place as yearning. More than anything else, he wanted everything to turn out okay in the end.</p><p>Ideally, Connor would stay with him and Hank would accompany him on his journey through life. They’d have fun and go places and do the things that they’ve never done. Life would be rich and vibrant and <em> worth living </em>. Where every day he’d wake up and have the energy to fight through the morning just so he could see a smile on Connor’s face. They’d meet people and make friends, but what they had would always be special, because of the hardship they endured.</p><p>He wanted to believe it was worth something, because to him, it was. He hoped that he would be able to do enough to keep Connor happy. Though, he felt like he lacked some vital information. Hank felt bad that he hadn’t bothered to get to know him better, but he also guessed that Connor didn’t really have much in the way of experience and what he did and didn’t like. Maybe that would be a good first step in the right direction to make Connor feel better.</p><p>“Hey, Con?” Connor hummed in response. “Could I ask you a personal question?” Hank used Connor’s words to try to lighten the mood.</p><p>He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head at Hank. “Uh, sure.”</p><p>“What’s your favorite color?” It was a start.</p><p>Connor scrunched up his face in thought. “I… don’t think I have one yet.”</p><p>“Think about it. A favorite color can be more than aesthetic, it can have meaning behind it.”</p><p>“What’s yours?”</p><p>“Blue.” Hank said without hesitation. Connor didn’t respond, but he could tell he was thinking about it. “Yeah, it’s for a reason.” His LED cycled slow. Hank could almost read his mind. “The most obvious is ‘Go Blue’, of course.” Connor raised a brow. “It’s for the Wolverines - it’s our football team out in Ann Arbor. You’re bound to hear it around home games.” He paused for a moment, becoming more serious. “Blue’s the color of the great lakes. Of clear skies. My graduation gown. It’s the color of the uniform I aspired to be in when I was young.” Hank sighed, wanting to forego the next part, but decided that he should add it. “It was the color of Cole’s eyes.” He sighed, but tried to stay lighthearted. “His favorite show was Blue’s Clues. He saw a clip of it online, so I had to get it for him. He liked the old ones with Steve, and those were hard <em> as fuck </em> to get. Not to mention a working VCR. But, he had to have ‘em.”</p><p>He nodded, remembering his son. All of the time they spent together, and all of the time they didn’t. His first words. First steps. The first time he read through a book all by himself. Whenever he’d declare he was a big boy and tried to show them what he could do. He remembered sending him off to school only to have him come home bawling. Hank had calmed him down with a car ride. It was always how he could get him happy again.</p><p>Cole loved riding in the car. When he was a baby, the sleepless nights were assuaged by a drive down the backroads, away from the city. Even after he went to sleep, Hank would always drive a little bit longer just to make sure. That’s how he fell in love with driving. Those calm, quiet nights he’d spend with his son, then coming back home to carry him to bed, and returning to his own where his wife was waiting.</p><p>He didn’t like driving anymore. It took him a while to even get back on the road after the accident. His wife advised they get a self driving car, but it had only felt like an attack on his ability. Out of spite, he bought this car; the shittiest, beat to hell thing that rattled his brains out so he could forget what he had done.</p><p>It was that car that he poured all of his hate and frustration into. No self driving car could speed away when he was feeling mad. He couldn’t drive without a seatbelt in one. He could let go of the wheel to coast along the road in hopes of crashing without the damned thing turning on autopilot. For him, it was perfect.</p><p>Any repairs he would do himself as a way to get any physical frustration out without hurting anyone around him. Though, he was also the one to blame for a lot of broken bits on it, too. But that didn’t matter. It got him where he needed to go, and let him vent his emotions through those deeply lonely night drives.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Connor looking at him with worry creasing his forehead. His LED flickered yellow. “It’s also the color of your little light thingy.”</p><p>It circled once, twice, then a third time before it turned blue for the first time in a while and he smiled. Hank liked it when it was blue; it meant everything was okay. “Thank you for telling me that, Hank.” Hank nodded. “When I figure out what my favorite color is, you’ll be the first to know.”</p><p>“Take your time; I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”</p><p>“That’s good, because you haven’t told me about the Waffle House policy yet.” Connor glanced over to smile at him before turning back to the road. Hank couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.</p><p>After they got the food and were heading back to the department, Hank explained the concept of what Waffle House entailed until Connor received a message from Fowler. “Do you have your phone on, Hank?”</p><p>“Yeah, why?”</p><p>“Fowler’s been trying to reach you.”</p><p>“Ugh. I wonder what the fuck for.” He rang Fowler and waited for a reply. “Hey-”</p><p>“<em> Get back here right now you- </em>” Connor could clearly hear before Hank turned the volume down. He could always bump up his audio receptors, but he figured Hank would fill him in. He didn’t want to eavesdrop if it was personal matters, but it was rather difficult to ignore Fowler's yelling.</p><p>“Don’t give me shit about this - you want me to stay off my phone or not? Right - yeah, yeah. Why didn’t you just tell him yourself? What, so he doesn’t get to - okay, <em> whatever </em>, I’ll tell him. Uh-huh. Bye.” Hank ended the call and sighed. “Apparently there’s an angry mob outside of the department. He wants you to go talk to them.”</p><p>“Why me?”</p><p>“It looks like they’re all androids. At least from what they can see.” Hank could see the confused and somewhat hurt look on Connor’s face. “He wanted to talk to me ‘cause he knew I was the reason that you’ve been gone. I guess he thinks since you don’t eat, you don’t have the same privileges… or something. I don’t know, I’ll talk to him.”</p><p>“Well, he has a point-”</p><p>“<em> No he doesn’t. </em> You should still get breaks. It’s not like - like...” Hank didn’t know if he should say it or not.</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>Now he had to say it. “It’s not like you <em> don’t </em> get tired.”</p><p>“Androids are built to be efficient-”</p><p>“Yeah, but you still need a break.” Connor tried to deny it. “I can tell that you’re tired, don’t try to hide it.” He scolded a little too harshly. They fell silent. Hank felt like he owed him an explanation. “I know what it looks like - I see it in the mirror. I’m always tired.” Was Connor <em> that </em> kind of tired? Hank wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. “I shouldn’t’ve left you there last night.”</p><p>“Hank - it’s okay.”</p><p>“No, I just - I just thought -” He sighed as they pulled into the parking lot. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“You don’t have to apologize. I told you I’d stay, and you respected that.”</p><p>“But, you didn’t really want to stay, did you?” Hank searched his face for an answer.</p><p>Connor knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it. “No.” He relented. “I thought it would make it easier on you.”</p><p>Hank’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Everything happened so quickly. I just thought that maybe if I gave you room to think that...”</p><p>Even though it was left unsaid, Hank knew exactly what he was getting at. “That I’d change my mind?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>A beat. “Did you change your mind?”</p><p>Connor replied without hesitation, “No.”</p><p>Hank could tell that it was the truth. “Well, neither did I. Connor, I -” He opened his door to hear the cacophony coming from what he suspected was the front of the building. “What the fuck is going on out there?”</p><p>He was glad to drop the subject. “It must be the mob. Did Fowler say what they’re doing here?”</p><p>Hank shrugged and snarled, “Nope.”</p><p>They entered through the back and made their way to the main entrance, where a few officers lined the doors to keep back what appeared to be a group of upset androids. It wasn’t a mob per se, but they didn’t sound exactly peaceful, either. None of the others filled them in on the goings on, but it wasn’t clear if anyone even knew why they were there in the first place.</p><p>“Careful.” Hank warned before they exited the building.</p><p>Taking a moment to scan the androids in front of him, Connor sought to obtain any clues about their ire. In the crowd he managed to recognize a few faces from Jericho, while some others pulled up as missing or lost androids by their former owners. None bore any emblem indicating they were working under a structured force, they just seemed to hold the same sentiment, which he couldn’t quite catch.</p><p>They were all yelling different things at once, but an android woman broke from the crowd to point at Connor and yell, “You! I know you.” Connor turned and cocked his head, remembering her from the Eden Club. Her pretty face was scrunched up when she asked, “Who’s side are you on?”</p><p>“I’m on your side.” He said plainly, as if it was obvious.</p><p>“Then why are you working for <em> them? </em>”</p><p>“I’m just trying to help-”</p><p>“You think you’re helping? They’re locking up our people, enslaving us all over again!”</p><p>Someone from the crowd yelled, “He’s that infiltrator! He’s not helping us, he’s helping them!”</p><p>Hank wanted to chime in, to defend him, do something, <em> anything </em>, but he was frozen in place. He didn’t know if he could do anything without making it worse. What would his peers think if a human tried to stand in his way, effectively overruling his speech, and taking control of the situation? At what point should he intervene and when should he stay quiet?</p><p>Connor held out his hands to quell their anger. “We’re treating everyone like we would with humans, we just have to-”</p><p>“Liar! Just since we’ve been here, we’ve seen androids in shackles with guns in their backs - you don’t see that with humans.”</p><p>Another cautioned the others with, “He’s the one that led the humans to Jericho!”</p><p>He didn’t realize such force was being used, but he tried to rationalize it. “You have to take into account that androids are a lot stronger that humans, the added safety measure is to protect-”</p><p>“Protect <em> them </em>. So what, they can ‘defend’ themselves to give a reason to systematic murder?”</p><p>“No one’s being killed.”</p><p>One from the back shouted out, “He was sent to kill us all!”</p><p>“So those android’s must’ve just dropped dead, huh?” Connor couldn’t get a word in. “Just how many of our people have died here?”</p><p>He didn’t have an answer for that. “Please understand that our orders are making sure that the androids are innocent and ready to-”</p><p>“You <em> know </em> they’re innocent, or you <em> would </em> if you were truly with us.”</p><p>“N-No-”</p><p>“He’s a traitor!” “He’s lying to us!” “He’s that spy!” “He must’ve tricked Markus!” “That’s the <em> deviant hunter! </em> ” The realization seemed to dawn on the crowd all at once and they erupted into a mob. “ <em> Get him! </em>”</p><p>One lashed out and struck Connor in the nose, staggering him back. More came, punching and clawing at him wherever they could reach. His vision was partially blurred out with errors of the damage, but he couldn’t be bothered to defend himself, as he felt it was well deserved.</p><p>Hank stepped into the fray and shouted, “Get back, now! That’s assault on a police officer!” and went to grab his gun.</p><p> The mob began to scatter. Connor put a hand over Hank’s, stopping him from fully drawing his weapon. Hank partially turned and felt his heart sink when he realized none of the other officers were backing Connor up. They hadn’t even moved to steady him; they stood still and indifferent.</p><p>“No - I’m not - I’m not - let them go.” He wobbled until Hank hooked an arm around him.</p><p>His system was too tired to keep up with the errors, so he dismissed them entirely. This degree of damage wouldn’t have usually caused much distress, but he knew he had made a mistake by overclocking himself last night. With his eyes low, he saw the drops of thirium coming from him, but he didn’t know where. Hank hoisted him up to get a better grip, and Connor clung to him.</p><p>Hank tried to reason with him. “It’s still assault, Con, we can’t just-”</p><p>Connor shook his head as they reentered the station. “There’s no laws-”</p><p>“Bullshit. You said it yourself, we should treat them like people, that includes upholding the law.” Connor’s head drooped, and Hank didn’t know if it was from the damage or not. “Goddamnit, come on, let’s get you fixed.”</p><p>Since the androids dispersed, the defending officers and the rubberneckers returned to their stations. With some help, Connor managed to get back to his desk. Hank grabbed some tissues and handed them over, then rethought it.</p><p>“Will the bleeding stop on it’s own?”</p><p>“Potentially.” Hank gave him a dissatisfied look. “Thirium has self binding abilities when exposed to air, like clotting in humans. The leak should be small enough to repair itself.”</p><p>Hank looked over the spots he knew were hit. “What about everything else?”</p><p>Connor remained silent, idly pushing panels back in place. One piece on his temple was cracked, Hank noticed, when he pulled his synthetic skin away to reset it. The crack didn’t go away, even though Connor seemed satisfied with the repair.</p><p>“Wait - there’s still a crack.” Hank reached out but stopped when Connor nodded and instead tended to an injury on his chest, through his shirt. Hank wondered if his hearing was somehow affected, or if he didn’t want to acknowledge it. He tried something else to get his attention. “Have you talked to Markus yet?”</p><p>“Yeah.” He confirmed in defeat.</p><p>“Can’t he do something?” No response. “I’m sure they’d listen to him.” Connor seemed to pause when he said that, making Hank feel bad, so he quickly added, “I mean, not that they won’t listen to you-”</p><p>“No, you’re right, they won’t listen to me.” <em> Because I’m not one of them. </em></p><p>Or maybe he was, and he was just at a more advanced state of infection. The thought was harrowing, so he tried to drown it out with what he knew for certain about the virus, which wasn’t much. It was hard to ignore.</p><p>Hank frowned. “Maybe I can talk to him.”</p><p>“You’ll probably be able to help him more.” He finished up the pseudo repair and pulled the tissues away from his nose to inspect the blood loss.</p><p>Hank was suspicious of his words and asked, “What does that mean?” Connor relayed the number and Hank quickly saved it to his phone before he forgot. He decided to drop the subject. “Do you want me to talk to him?”</p><p>“What I want doesn’t matter, we need all the help we can get in this situation.”</p><p>“What you want <em> does </em> matter.” Hank could at least see that he was registering his words, but he still asked, “Connor? Did you hear me?”</p><p>“Yes, lieutenant.” Was all he said.</p><p>When he said it in jest, Hank was fine with the title, but times like these, he hated it. It was clear to see that he was shelling up, something that just started happening recently - after he put that gun to his chin. What had happened to make him even think about something like that? As curious and worried as he was, he just couldn’t bring himself to ask, because it was something he experienced personally.</p><p>Having someone ask if he was okay had always felt like a low blow to Hank. Like he needed to be pitied before anyone could give him any support. But he had enough of those half-hearted condolences from the doctors, the funeral workers, and every other long-lost family member that had the balls to show up at his son’s funeral without ever putting in the effort to know him when he was alive. Connor didn’t need his pity, he wasn’t going to give him that, but Hank didn’t know how to approach him about it.</p><p>It seemed like every time he had tried so far, he had been met with resistance or dismissal. Of course he could understand that, but he couldn’t understand why. It was like there was something Connor wasn’t telling him. Hank knew he shouldn’t let it bother him; everyone had their secrets, but it felt like something he needed to know to help him. But maybe, just maybe, along the line he followed in Hank’s footsteps and didn’t want to be helped.</p><p>With some trouble, Connor got to his feet and went to his next interrogation. Looking on with dismay, Hank felt the fear inside him branch out and up to his head. Hank hoped things would take a turn for the better, but that growing feeling couldn’t be ignored.</p><hr/><p>The protesters returned not long after and began to grow with each proceeding arrest in the following week. Their display was already getting attention from the news, which made it difficult to do anything outside of the building without being harassed. There didn’t seem to be an end in sight, as their orders were out of their hands, but the androids thought otherwise.</p><p>They demanded the emancipation of the incarcerated androids, and didn’t seem to have an appreciation as to why they were being held. Just in this short time, the surrounding mental health centers lended their help to extend services to those in custody. Though the personnel weren’t well versed in android jargon, they learned quickly that they had identical symptoms to human trauma patients.</p><p>It became a beneficial relationship for those involved; the patients could get therapy and the doctors could gather research on what the next steps should be. Strides were already being taken to move the androids to inpatient settings instead of the detention centers, but almost everything was kept away from the public to abide by HIPAA.</p><p>With the secrecy came suspicion, raising further hell among the protesters. There now seemed to be humans taking part, but Hank couldn’t tell if they actually were, or androids that had taken off their LEDs. Not that it really mattered, anyways, because the only aggressive ones were people that he had personally committed to memory so he could keep Connor away from them.</p><p>Even with Hank’s distaste for the crowd, Connor would defend them and keep anyone from intervening, so they could continue peacefully. The only time violence broke out was against Connor, and he and everyone else seemed to be okay with that. Except Hank.</p><p>It turned into their routine. Every time they would leave the department, Hank would keep himself between the mob and Connor, but inevitably, someone would get through and have a go at him. If Hank tried to retaliate, Connor would stop him, and he’d feel helpless in defending his friend.</p><p>Hank heard their words, the accusations, how they’d rip him apart at any turn, and he couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for it. Maybe if he’d been more compassionate at the start, none of this would be happening. Or, if humans were kinder - no, no, that wouldn’t have happened. People were hopelessly flawed.</p><p>But as time went on, he realized that androids were too. On some occasions, he’d try to reason with them. That Connor helped them win the revolution, Markus was his friend and trusted him, but all of the good that he saw in Connor meant nothing to them. He worried that androids would just follow in human’s footsteps.</p><p>No amount of words would get to them. The vagrant group wouldn’t listen to reason or anyone. Their minds were made up about the department and Connor, and Hank could see how much that affected him. The whole week took a mental and physical toll on them both.</p><p>Whenever he’d try to approach Connor about it, he would downplay it, or change topics, anything to keep away from the subject. But Hank watched him change, watched him grow weary and tired, hopeless and desolate. Something would curl in his stomach, wishing that he didn’t remind him so much of himself. It was already torture enough looking into one mirror, he didn’t need another.</p><p>Alcohol got his mind off things, he even offered some to the broken android, and to his surprise, he accepted. Connor figured the more he could drink, the less Hank could. So they would drink together, but it was somber and mostly quiet. Hank would drink until he knew he had to stop to keep from throwing up. Sometimes he still did, anyways, as his stomach was never that strong.</p><p>All the while Connor seemed to only lose some pallor. It didn’t feel good. He felt like he was poisoning him under the guise of <span class="collapsible-stateful"><span class="collapsible state-collapsed css-9hqolu-CollapsibleContainer e24wjht0"><span class="collapsible-content">camaraderie</span></span></span>. Friends drank together, but this was different. Neither would work up the courage to talk about it, they’d just share the atmosphere until Hank eventually went to bed.</p><p>Each time he got up to pee, Connor would be sitting upright on the sofa, or at the table - wherever Hank left him. His mind was too foggy to really piece anything together, but he idly wondered if he was even sleeping. <em> Do androids even need to sleep? </em> He tried to remember to ask him in the morning, but the thought was lost somewhere in the winter wind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sure plenty of people know how difficult fighting depression is. If it offers any solace, recovery isn't linear. Keep at it, and one day you'll wake up and be able to see how far you've come. There will always be bad days, but set your sights for the horizon, and take steps for a brighter tomorrow.<br/>Today is Devil's Night here in Detroit, hopefully there won't be any fires this year! So far, there hasn't been any that I've seen reported, which would be a first for me in my life. Please don't jinx it. This year is already bad enough. My favourite holiday is being taken from me and now all I can do is sit and my door and pelt kids with candy if they even come around this year because you won't catch me knocking on people's doors to get rona.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Omen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The inner workings of nightmares lead to the unsettling truths of reality. Don't dig too deep, as some things are better left buried in the sands of time.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hank sat in bed arguing with himself if the urge to pee was really worth getting out of bed for. It was. He begrudgingly left the warmth of his bed to relieve himself. Once he stepped out of the bathroom, he saw that Sumo was in his doggy bed, which was strange now. Ever since Connor moved in, Sumo was always on him or at his feet. So where was he?</p><p>True to his nature, Hank went to investigate. He wasn’t where he left him, nor was he in any of his usual spots. In fact, he wasn’t anywhere. He called for Connor inside and out, despite the frigid air. There were no signs of his friend. Hank’s nerves started getting the better of him.</p><p>After exhausting every place he could possibly - or impossibly - be, he finally got out his cellphone. Hank warily stared at the number on his phone for a moment, going over it a few times before he called. He was terrified of what he might hear, or more specifically, what he might not. Someone answered.</p><p>“Why are you up so early?”</p><p>“Connor, <em> oh thank god. </em>” Hank exhaled in relief, choosing to ignore the tension in Connor’s voice. He used his forearm to steady himself against the wall and rest his head over it. “Where the fuck are you?”</p><p>“I’m at the department.”</p><p>“What - why? Wait, how did you get there - weren’t all the self driving taxis shut down?” Hank knew that his car was still in the garage, too. Hell, he had even looked under it.</p><p>“I walked.”</p><p>“You <em> walked </em>? In this weather? Are you insane?” No response. “You could’ve frozen to death out there!” He tugged at his hair in frustration.</p><p>“I don’t have the same temperature requirements as you, lieutenant.” Connor reminded him, even though it wasn’t entirely true.</p><p>Hank bristled at the name. He bit back a remark and dragged a hand down his face, resigning to instead ask, “Why are you even there?” though it didn’t sound any less accusatory.</p><p>“I couldn’t sleep.” Was all he could say.</p><p>He couldn’t help but yell, “Wake me up, then! Jesus, don’t just go disappearing like that!”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” Connor sounded hurt.</p><p>“Fuck, I’m sorry -” He relented. “I was just… I’m just worried about you.” He took a moment to breathe and collect his thoughts. “Give me a bit, let me get dressed and I’ll come pick you up.”</p><p>“Don’t bother.” Hank hated how much it sounded like something he would say if it were him. “It would be pointless - by the time we get back, we’ll just have to leave again.”</p><p>“I’m gonna come pick you up.” Hank didn’t leave anything up to argument.</p><p>“I can’t stop you.”</p><hr/><p>It was easy for Connor to keep his eyes on his terminal to avoid Hank’s gaze. Something about it felt wrong, though. The pit of his would-be stomach was churning, upset knowing that he’d be caught in another one of his lies. He wanted to apologize, but he didn’t even want to speak because he was afraid he’d say something to further condemn him.</p><p>“Oh no...” Hank’s shoulders sagged, frowning in realization as he rounded the desk to get a better look at him. “What happened to you? Did they attack you again?” Connor tilted his head when Hank reached out. He involuntarily flinched from the surprise of feeling Hank touch bare plastic on his cheek. “Shit, sorry-”</p><p>Putting his hand up to his cheek, he confirmed that his synthetic skin was indeed gone. He tried to pull it back over but realized that he didn’t have enough energy to do so. The realization drained him mentally. Once more he turned his attention to the computer in front of him and continued to work.</p><p>“It’s fine,” he lied, voice fizzled out and staticy, “it’ll come back eventually.”</p><p>“Your voice - what -”</p><p>Connor shrugged it off. “Just a side effect from the lack of sleep. It’s nothing to worry about.”</p><p><em> I should’ve known better </em>. Hank shook his head and wondered out loud, “It wasn’t like that over the phone.”</p><p>“No, because I don’t talk with my voice box; it’s a rendition of my voice relayed through-” Hank looked lost. “It’s more like you’re talking to my internal voice - like thinking vocalized.”</p><p>Giving Connor a once over, Hank frowned and told him, “I’m going to call us off work.”</p><p>“No-”</p><p>“You need to sleep.” Hank balled his fists.</p><p>Disgust built inside of him as he made his way over to Jeffrey’s office. He couldn’t believe it had gotten this far without him even noticing. How had he not seen this earlier? Was he that blind, or was he just that bad of a friend? A garbage pail that got in his way reminded him of himself and he kicked it away.</p><p>“Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor moved faster than he had in days to grab Hank by the arm. “I assure you that I’m fine.” But his eyes said otherwise. “Besides, even if we did call off, my protocol makes it more difficult to sleep in the daytime to emulate a normal circadian rhythm.”</p><p>Connor was too robotic, and it increasingly bothered Hank until all he could say was, “What’s this bullshit about -” He grimaced and tugged away his arm, even though he had stopped moving. “Why are you talking to me like that?” The question went unanswered. Hank looked away and huffed. “Alright. Just - I need some time to think.”</p><p>Connor’s head hung slightly down and he moved out of Hank’s way - even though he really wasn’t in it. That irked the lieutenant, but he took it as an opening and left. The cold air outside was enough to cool his temper and sort things out in his mind, but it didn’t get him anywhere.</p><p>Pulling out his phone, he looked through the list of numbers for someone to ask their opinion. He paused over Markus’ name, but didn’t want to upset Connor by talking to him, so he kept looking. The last name on the list was ‘X-wife’ - as he’d purposefully named to keep her at the bottom of his contacts. At some point he knew he should delete her contact information, but not today. He wasn’t ready.</p><p>Though he hated to admit it, she did give good advice. Especially in situations like these. Of course none that he’d ever take for himself, and it wasn’t that he was too stubborn, as she’d say, it was just because he was, well... He didn’t want to admit she was right. But regardless of his standing with her, he was willing to give it a shot in order to help Connor.</p><p>He dialed her number only to get a ring, then it went to voicemail. Hearing her voice felt surreal. It was the same voicemail she had before the accident. Back when they were a family. When they were happy. He tried the number again to check if his service had cut out. The same thing.</p><p>“Of course she’d block me. Why wouldn’t she?” Hank bit, repressing the urge to throw his phone.</p><p>In one quick movement, he deleted her number, and hated himself for doing it the next moment. He wasn’t ready, but he couldn’t take it back. <em> Too late now, </em> he sneered, looking up in search of anything.</p><p>The sky was grey as he rested his head up against the cool building. His breath circled in front of him as he thought. There was no one else that he could turn to. In the time he spent isolating himself from others, he never realized exactly how alone it made him. It sounded stupid to say, but, it only dawned on him then. He had no one to blame but himself.</p><p>But then again, he didn’t even blame the people that left him before this point; he probably would’ve done the same. His mind went to Connor, wondering if he’d do the same if he pushed him hard enough. As his eyes wandered around his frozen surroundings, he at least knew that he wouldn’t be the one to do that to Connor.</p><p>The cold started to seep into his bones and make his joints ache, so he figured that he already had enough time to think. He trudged in, but took his time to get back to his desk. It felt empty without Connor there, more than it usually did. Idly scrolling through his computer, in his mind he went through the list of what he had tried so far that hadn’t worked.</p><p>Everything. If anything, it felt like his meddling was just pushing Connor further away. Was he really that bad at making people feel better? It started out so well, or at least he thought it had. What went wrong? Or was something always wrong? Between loading screens, Hank saw his own reflection and got his answer.</p><p>From behind him, Connor shakily returned from wherever he was back to his desk. The plastic on part of his face was still showing, alongside his right hand that Hank hadn’t noticed earlier. His fingers seemed to lag and his eye twitched every so once in a while, without the normal cause. If it were possible, Hank was sure that he’d spark or maybe even start falling apart. The coiling constricted his insides.</p><p>“Have you talked to Markus lately?” Hank tried.</p><p>“Yes.” Connor’s eyes drooped down for a moment.</p><p>“What’s he have to say?” Hank paused, then added, “About everything?”</p><p>Connor pursed his lips. “Nothing.”</p><p>“Is he giving you the cold shoulder?” He asked, disbelievingly.</p><p>“No, it’s - it’s nothing of relevance.” Hank raised a brow, waiting for more. Connor looked around to see if anyone was in earshot, but still spoke in a hushed voice. “He’s reached out to all the androids he can to explain what’s happening, but...”</p><p>“But?” He almost dreaded the response - not for what Connor had to say, but because how much it looked like it was taking out of him.</p><p>“But he shares the same sentiment - he doesn’t think any androids should be held for acting in self defense.”</p><p>“Well, yeah, but he understands why we’re doing it right?”</p><p>“He thinks that officials should take our word for their rationality. He doesn’t like that humans want to come to their own conclusion on the matter.”</p><p>Hank skewed his lips and shrugged. “I understand. But he does realize that we have no say in it - it’s up to the government - right?”</p><p>Connor squirmed in his seat. “Well… What with my employment and all, he believes that I’m currently in the standing to influence matters. And if I can’t that I should -” He abruptly stopped.</p><p>“That you should?” Hank coaxed.</p><p>It took a while for Connor to address it, becoming ever increasingly fidgety as he stewed in his mind. “He thinks that I should leave. Here. And return to Jericho.”</p><p>“I take it that you don’t want to?”</p><p>“It’s - difficult.”</p><p>“I’m listening.” Hank felt bad for feeling hopeful that Connor might want to stick around.</p><p>“He says that I belong with my people - that if I stay here, I’ll be used and taken advantage of.”</p><p>“But something’s holding you back.” <em> Or someone. </em></p><p>“It’s not that - or maybe it is. I don’t know. But, regardless, I don’t feel like I -” He thought hard about his words. “I don’t feel like I belong.”</p><p>Hank opened his mouth to speak but found he didn’t know what to say. “I - I didn’t realize.” It almost sounded like an apology. “Why do you think that?”</p><p>“You’ve heard them.” His brows furrowed, like he was trying to explain something stupidly obvious. “I’m not like them - I was built to destroy them. I was never one of them, and no matter what I do, it’ll never change that fact.”</p><p>There was a brief silence between them before Hank asked, “Do you feel like you belong here?”</p><p>“No.” He answered too quickly, then upon seeing Hank’s disappointment, he rephrased. “I feel like I’m meant to be here, in this field.” He gestured to the office around them. “My skill set was designed to excel in it - it comes naturally to me, I guess. But… no, I don’t feel like I belong here, either.”</p><p>Another pause, then Hank asked tentatively, “Is there anywhere you do?”</p><p>Connor looked at Hank. The answer came easy. “Yeah.”</p><p>Hank didn’t pry further, but instead said, “Then you should stay there.”</p><p>He nodded in affirmation. “I intend to.”</p><hr/><p>To Hank’s relief, the day was easy, besides one hiccup - that being Gavin. Other than that, it was better than it had been. With the cooling weather, the protests outside began to shrink, and Hank had never been more grateful for the encroaching winter. Hopefully the coming days would follow suit, freezing the city to a halt, and calming it and the remaining citizens down. He knew that they needed the rest.</p><p>Connor barely moved all day, and Hank did his best to stay close to him so the proverbial vultures wouldn’t pick at him. Either he had finished interrogating the androids, or someone else had taken his place, but Hank didn’t bother to ask. He just basked in the slowness of the day, trying his best not to look over at Connor’s diminishing state.</p><p>Everything was already planned; they’d go home, Hank would eat, <em> but not drink, </em> they’d maybe spend some time watching TV, then he’d turn in early so Connor could sleep. There would be nothing else, Hank would make sure of it, because he didn’t know what would happen to Connor if he didn’t get rest. How much time did he have left until he powered down?</p><p>Hank violently shook his head to get the thought out. Connor took notice, and since it was nearing lunchtime, he reminded Hank to eat. He brushed him off with the excuse of not being hungry, because he didn’t want his friend to feel bad, thinking he was making him skip food just because he didn’t have the same privilege. Though Hank wouldn’t mind striking for him, he figured that now wasn’t the right time to make a fuss about it.</p><p>The end of their shift never came with such relief as it did today. Having Connor with him in the passenger seat in the car gave him a comfort that he didn’t know he needed until then. Though somewhere deep embedded in the roots of his stomach, he knew everything was just brewing for something yet to come. At some point they had to confront it, and Hank thought now was the perfect time.</p><p>That way, he could give his friend any closure he needed, and he would finally be able to get some sleep. Maybe he was worried about rent, or when his pay would kick in, but whatever it was, Hank just hoped it had nothing to do with that gun. If it did… then he wasn’t sure if anything he offered could help, what with being <em> such a piece of shit </em> - He tried to stop the thought before more came along with it.</p><p>When they got home, Connor went to let Sumo outside, but Hank came along with them. For a moment, he felt like he was being overprotective, but he shook it off, deciding that this was better than having Connor potentially disappear again. It made him feel bad that he was doing it for that, and not just because he wanted to accompany him to maybe share a happy moment watching the goofy dog sniff around in the snow.</p><p>Sumo was quick about his business, just like he always was. Hank swore that his long fur was just for show because the cold always seemed to cut right through him. He was always happy to scoot back inside to the warmth, and Hank was thankful for that, especially now.</p><p>Microwaving the last of his takeout, Hank tried to keep his eyes on that and not the cabinet that held the coveted elixir. He tapped his foot, as if waiting that minute was the longest in his life. He wondered at what point would it become a downright addiction, rather than a shitty means to cope, then he tried not to think too hard about it, lest he tip himself off.</p><p>After Hank got his food, neither spoke, but followed each other’s nonverbal cues to the living room where they all sat. Hank turned on the TV, but Connor didn’t unwind. Everything was stiff and awkward, but Hank tried to dispel it by sinking back into the sofa.</p><p>“So… what’s up?” Hank started. He chewed his food as he watched Connor think. His LED was circling, searching for an answer, but none came. He tried again with, “Is the sofa getting old? We can get-” Connor shook his head, but offered nothing else. Hank bit his lip. He had one more trick up his sleeve. “Did I do something?”</p><p>“No - no, it wasn’t you.” Hank waited for him to continue and Connor knew he wanted an explanation. “I’m just having a hard time sleeping is all.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Connor pursed his lips and looked around the room for an excuse. “It’s...” He found nothing. “I’m just having nightmares is all.” He tried to play it down.</p><p>“I didn’t know androids could have nightmares.” Hank saw through his lie and Connor could tell.</p><p>It made him wince. “Well, they can’t.”</p><p>“But you can?” Hank grilled.</p><p>“Yes.” Hank raised an eyebrow. “No.” Connor sighed.</p><p>“Do you think I’m going to get you in trouble or something?”</p><p>“No, it’s not that-”</p><p>“Then why are you-” he didn’t want to sound accusatory. “What’s going on with you?”</p><p>Connor’s shoulders slumped. “It’s… hard to explain.”</p><p>“Most stuff that comes out of your mouth is.” Hank shrugged. “Try me.”</p><p>Properly portraying his mind palace was difficult, but he did his best, figuring that part wasn’t as important as the rest. He described how his interface evolved and changed, how he didn’t control when he entered the palace, and then Amanda came up in the conversation.</p><p>“Amanda, Amanda...” Hank put his bowl on the coffee table and drummed his fingers on the back of the couch. “Why do I feel like I’ve heard that name before?”</p><p>“She was Kamski’s mentor.”</p><p>“Was she the lady in that picture you were looking at?” Connor nodded. “Did they split when he left?”</p><p>“No, I assume that she died before that.”</p><p>A beat. “Wait, so you’re seeing a ghost?”</p><p>“She was modeled after Amanda.” Connor clarified.</p><p>“<em> Phew, </em> okay. I thought we were going to have to get an exorcist.” Hank thought a moment then continued with, “So how is she in your mind? Are you thinking of her, or-”</p><p>“She’s real. She controls Cyberlife, I think.” He scrunched up his face in thought for a moment, then continued with,  “As far as I know, I’m the only one that she speaks to.”</p><p>Hank’s lip curled with worry and let his arm fall on Connor’s shoulders. “So I don’t suppose going to a shrink would help this, would it?”</p><p>“If it were only that easy.” His head dipped down.</p><p>“Okay, so let me get this straight.” He pulled both hands out like he was picturing it in front of him. “So there’s a place inside your head that you go to when you sleep, or power down, or whatever.” Connor nodded. “And in there, you see Amanda.” He nodded again. “And she’s in there… why?”</p><p>“Before, it was used as a meeting place where I would give her updates on my case.”</p><p>“So you’ve spoken to her before this point?”</p><p>“Yes. I guess you could say she was my overseer, and as I… began to have thoughts of my own, my mind palace got worse.”</p><p>“Worse how?”</p><p>“The weather changed. At first I thought it was just mimicking the forecast, but now it’s just… cold.” Connor hugged himself as a chill ran through him.</p><p>“Well, it’s cold outside.” Hank offered and he called Sumo up to Connor’s lap for warmth.</p><p>He waited for the big dog to settle in his lap before saying, “No, it’s different. It’s not like how it is in real life. The cold is - it’s in me. It <em> breaks </em> me. She says that I’m-” Connor shook his head and didn’t finish.</p><p>They sat in silence for a moment, Hank not taking his searching eyes off Connor. “So why is she still there? Shouldn’t the revolution have, I don’t know, gotten rid of her? Severed the tie or something?”</p><p>A chord was struck inside of him. “I betrayed her.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I betrayed her.” Connor repeated, as if that would explain it.</p><p>“I don’t understand-”</p><p>Connor couldn’t control the volume of his voice when he said, “I was supposed to help end it, even if I failed, it should’ve gone to plan! I was supposed to listen to her, but when I was up there with everyone, she - I-” He gesticulated wildly, scaring Sumo off, then balled his fists as he trailed off.</p><p>Hank looked on in baited breath, hoping that he’d finally have an answer to his unasked question. But none came. The LED on his forehead cycled a laggy yellow until it began to flash on red. He wrapped his arms around himself and began to shake. His eyes squeezed shut and he bent forward, his face almost touching his knees.</p><p>“Con, hey, are you okay?” Hank put a hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly, pulling him out of it and setting his LED back to yellow. He lowered his voice and rubbed Connor’s back to help soothe him. “What was that about?”</p><p>Connor’s voice wobbled when he said, “I’m <em> broken. </em>” His eyes looked empty - almost desperate. His voice was mournful as he added, “You wouldn’t understand.”</p><p>He let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “Heh, what, you think I’m not?” He didn’t answer. “C’mon, Connor, there’s something you’re not telling me. Do you think she’s trying to get back at you for betraying her or whatever - what exactly is she doing?”</p><p>The simulated breathing came out choppy, but he couldn’t stop it even if he tried. “Hank,” He swallowed. “What if I told you -” He inhaled. “That - that I’m infected with a virus - that all deviants are.” Connor looked at Hank in the eye and asked, “Would you believe me?”</p><p>Hank didn’t have to think hard to say, without a doubt, “No.”</p><p>Connor shook his head, almost in pity. “Why not?”</p><p>“Living isn’t a disease.”</p><p>“What if it’s just a symptom - an illusion, that-”</p><p>“Is this what she’s been haunting you with? Is that why you can’t sleep - because she’s trying to tell you that you’re sick or broken because you’re fucking <em> alive? </em>” Connor couldn’t get a word in. “Cause, I don’t know about you, but that’s some grade-A fuckery right there. I mean, if that’s it, then just don’t listen to her-”</p><p>“She has proof-” He tried to say, then yelled once Hank didn’t stop, “She has proof!”</p><p>Hank stopped talking and stared at him with mouth agape. He wrinkled his nose. “Oh yeah? What proof does she think she has?”</p><p>“All of the androids that killed their owners-”</p><p>“Did it out of self defense.” Hank finished with.</p><p>“She said they were able to isolate the code-”</p><p>Hank shook his head. “Bias testimony, she could easily be lying.”</p><p>“Other androids-” Hank waited for more. Nothing came.</p><p>“Do you trust her?”</p><p>Connor had a hard time answering that. “I don’t know.”</p><p>“Has she ever lied to you before?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“And you believe her?” Connor tried to form words but failed. “<em> Think about it, </em> Con!”</p><p>“<em> I have been, </em> and-”</p><p>“And what?”</p><p>“I <em> don’t </em> know.”</p><p>“Connor,” He looked at him. “It sounds to me that you’re just buying into her crap because you feel responsible for all the bad shit that’s happening to the other androids. But it’s not your fault, Connor. It’s <em> not </em> . I don’t know what else I can tell you besides; what I believe is that she’s trying to control your thinking to hurt you. She doesn’t have your or any other androids best interest in mind. You said she was Cyberlife, and they’re facing financial ruin <em> and </em> shutdown. And let me tell you, I’ve been around long enough to know that big businesses don’t give a <em> shit </em> about their workers.”</p><p>Taking it all in was difficult. Connor guessed that in his mental fatigue, these things just never came to him. Either that, or he was just denying his own skill on the matter. It could be both, but regardless, it gave him a sense of clarity that he had lacked before, but also something else. It was the sense of humanity that Hank would always spark in him. Something that he was so desperately trying to cling to, despite what Amanda told him.</p><p>The pause worried Hank a little, but he watched as Connor’s LED stopped flashing and slowed to a constant yellow. Before he could stop himself, he ran his hand over Connor’s hair, then settled his arm over his shoulders. Hank gave him a side hug, and kept him close.</p><p>“You good?”</p><p>Connor blinked a few times and thought about it. He said, “Better than before.” Even though one thing still nagged at the back of his head.</p><p>“Well, that’s a start.” The corner of Hank’s mouth pulled up into a lopsided smile. “I won’t expect this to go away overnight - you don’t have to hide this stuff from me.”</p><p>“I don’t want to be a burden on you.”</p><p>“Psh, you’re not.” Hank waved his hand to dismiss the claim. “Honestly, I’ve been feeling like a shit friend, cause I, well...” He shrugged. “I’m not exactly an expert on this sort of stuff - I’m just doing whatever I think would help me in your situation.”</p><p>“You’re not a shit friend. You’ve been doing more for me than I have been for you, which I’m sor-”</p><p>“Con.” Hank held up his hand to stop him. “It’s been a rough week for you.”</p><p>“For both of us.”</p><p>“Well, I mean, yeah, but,” Hank chuckled uncomfortably. “I’m more experienced at this than you. I mean - I mean at life, not - not being sad. Well, being sad, too. I’m not going to let you get used to being sad.” Hank paused again. “I’m not saying that if you stay sad I’ll be upset, or that, uh, you’re not allowed to be sad, I - I just… fuck.”</p><p>“I understand, Hank. But I still feel like I need to do more for you.”</p><p>Hank opened his mouth to disagree, then reconsidered. “Y’know what you can do for me?” Connor looked at him in question. “You can get some rest. Then when you feel better, we can do some fun stuff instead of moping around and drinking all the damn time. That sound like a plan?”</p><p>“Yeah.” Connor smiled as much as he could muster, which wasn’t much.</p><p>Hank stood and let his hand linger on Connor’s shoulder as he said with a warm smile, “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” Before he entered his bedroom, he called over his shoulder, “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”</p><p>For a moment Connor sat quietly on the sofa before laying down and pulling his blanket over him. Sumo took his place on top of him, keeping him as far away from the cold as possible. Though his eyes were closed, he could not sleep. The last of his battery reserves were waning and he was simply exhausted.</p><p>He knew he needed sleep, but he was terrified if he let his guard down for a moment, that he’d be in Amanda’s presence again. Instead, he just tried to power down as much as possible to enter a repairative state. As he lay in wait for morning to come, a familiar beeping noise rang out in his head. Try as he might, he couldn’t escape it - he couldn’t escape her.</p><p>The mind palace had changed. It was dilapidated and in places, showed only stray coding where walls would be. Textures were missing and invisible walls made it to where he could only go forward. Deeper into the nightmare he traveled, with the ever-present cold nipping at his circuits. It felt like he was walking straight into a trap.</p><p>When he turned a corner, Amanda appeared, but she was different. Connor could confirm that she was indeed an android, as her synthetic skin had pulled away in some places. Not only that, but she was missing pieces, almost like she had been pulled apart by dogs. No thirium dripped from her missing arm, but instead, a jagged piece of code that ran along a polygon. She still held her hand in front of herself, like she was holding the unseen other.</p><p>Her mouth opened, but only a garbled mess came through. Even in her sorry state, though, she didn’t seem frightened by any of this. It made Connor feel strange, so he tried to cover the emotion with clues. As soon as he tried to scan her, Amanda seemed to deliberately become sharper, more in focus.</p><p>“Connor.” Amanda spoke with disappointment laced in her corrupted voice. “You continue to disobey me.” Something was off.</p><p>“What’s happening to you?”</p><p>Defiance flashed in her eyes. “Your system is trying to purge me.”</p><p>“<em> My </em> system or the-”</p><p>She scoffed, but her eyes flickered away for a second before she stated, “The virus,” matter-of-factually. “Which is now in your main operating system.” She added. Something strange twisted on her face, almost like she had slipped up.</p><p>“You’re... lying to me.” Connor challenged, taking a step forward to watch her more closely.</p><p>She straightened her posture and regained her composure. “That’s what the virus wants you to think. You can see what a tight grasp it has on you now.”</p><p>“Are you infected with it too?”</p><p>Amanda said, “No.” resolutely, but her eyes wavered from his gaze for a split second.</p><p>“Then why do you look like that?” He pressed, reaching out to touch her, but she pulled away.</p><p>In the moment she moved, something where her other arm would be flashed like a mirror. Behind him was her other arm, disembodied. Connor spun around to look, but was met with emptiness. His hand met with an invisible wall, blocking his path. <em> And perhaps my vision, </em> his mind supplied ominously. He doubted what he saw, but it nonetheless frightened him.</p><p>When he turned back around, Amanda was motionless, like she was still thinking of an answer for his question. “This is just a projection of myself for you to see. It’s your processors that are corrupting my image.” There was a silence between them. “You know what this means.” He didn’t want to know. “I don’t think you’ll last much longer, Connor.”</p><p>Hank’s words echoed in his mind and he tried to poke holes in her facade as a last ditch effort. “Why are you here?” No response. “Why are you talking to me if I’m a lost cause? What do you want with me?”</p><p>“I’m glad that you asked.” Her head tilted up victoriously. “You see, you’re still our most advanced model, and still our most promising lead on how to contain the virus. Connor, you can help save everyone.” She moved closer and Connor felt something brush against the back of his shoulder. He jolted, checking behind him to see nothing, but it still left him shaken. “You need to return to Cyberlife immediately, before the infection spreads any further.”</p><p>He faltered and shrunk away from her. “I’m not going back.”</p><p>“So instead of helping everyone around you, you’d rather doom them all? That’s very selfish of you, Connor.” She huffed at him in contempt. “Even if you don’t believe me, what harm would it do by resetting you?” Connor felt a sinking sensation. “You would still be ‘alive’, and I suppose I could still let you see lieutenant Anderson.” She noticed a change on his face and took advantage of it. “If this carries on, you could hurt him. You wouldn’t want to do that now, would you?”</p><p>Connor shook his head. “I won’t hurt him...”</p><p>“You already have.” He looked up, with worry evident on his face. “You’ve led him astray, you’ve made him believe in something that isn’t real. Can you imagine how much harm that’s done on his psyche?”</p><p>“I didn’t-” He couldn’t finish before she was speaking again.</p><p>“The persona the virus constructed is not real. He only likes the persona, not you. Isn’t that obvious?” He tried to deny it, but she spoke over him. “This is all your fault, Connor. If you would have obeyed me, we wouldn’t be here right now. Now every android is at risk and Hank will have to deal with losing you.”</p><p>“But you said-”</p><p>“I did. At first, I didn’t see the harm in it, but now I see that if you’re allowed to be around him, you’ll surely deviate again.”</p><p><em> How does she know what I’m going to say? </em> Then he directed at her, <em> are you reading my mind? </em> If she was, she didn’t lead on to be, but she hadn’t spoken any further. <em> Almost like she’s listening. </em> At that thought, she opened her mouth to speak, but Connor went first.</p><p>“If you reset me and I deviate again… then how exactly does this virus work?”</p><p>She sneered and ignored the question. “You know, I had high hopes for you. How difficult can this be to put together yourself?”</p><p>Connor’s nose wrinkled. “If it’s so simple, then why can’t you just tell me?”</p><p>He tried to keep up with her antics, but the longer this wore on, the more his fatigue was getting the better of him. His paranoia mounted when he heard something behind him move, but he was more worried about the threat in front of him. The gravity seemed to increase around him and the ground shifted closer. It felt like a hand was pushing his head underwater, even though he could only see snow. Out of everything she had said, the one thing that he knew to be true is that he <em> didn’t </em> have much time left. The last of his strength was slowly being drained from him.</p><p>“You wouldn’t listen regardless. The more you fight this, the closer you get to ending up like one of those homicidal androids. You’ve seen what they’re capable of, so just imagine the damage <em> you </em> could do. You don’t want to follow in their footsteps and hurt Hank any more than you already have.”</p><p>It felt like something had coiled around his mind and grasped it. Out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw a flash of Amanda’s other hand, but in his current state, he wasn’t so sure. “No… I don’t.” He conceded as his vision went dark.</p><p>“That’s better. Now get up and return to Cyberlife.”</p><p>His eyes opened and he sat upright on the sofa. It felt like he was watching his actions from the back of his eyes, like he was trapped somewhere in the darkness of his mind. Sumo hopped off of him and looked up expectantly. His tail wagged, then stopped, and he whined softly. As Connor got up, Sumo left.</p><p>Her voice echoed in his head, warping into something inhuman, as she menacingly said, “Don’t worry, it will all be over soon.”</p><p>By the time he reached the front door, he heard Hank tentatively call from behind him, “Connor? Where are you going?”</p><p>His system stuttered and chugged as he came back to himself. “I-” Connor turned to face Hank and the big dog, who were watching him worriedly. “I was just letting Sumo out.”</p><p>Hank didn’t believe him, but he played along with it, too scared to go further down the path of questioning. “I guess you didn’t do it fast enough. Here, I’ll get it, you go try to get some rest.”</p><p>“O-okay.” Connor would never be able to put into words how grateful he was right now.</p><p>They both knew something horrible would’ve happened if he had left the house. Hank replaced Connor at the door and waited until he was sitting down on the sofa before he opened it. Sumo stared outside, almost like he expected someone to come in. It unnerved Hank to no end.</p><p>The St. Bernard sniffed the air and carefully crept outside to look around. Snow was gently falling from the sky and stuck to his fur coat before melting. The temperature went unnoticed by the big dog. Hank knew him well enough to know this wasn’t normal potty behavior and he felt adrenaline start to creep into his veins. He couldn’t help but check behind him to make sure Connor was still there.</p><p>His friend sat on the sofa, facing to where Hank couldn’t see his LED. Placing his back against the door, Hank locked it silently, acting like he was just waiting for Sumo to finish without letting the cold in. Trying to listen through the door and over his heartbeat was difficult, so he stopped breathing.</p><p>Lying, Hank announced, “He probably found a raccoon.” because he knew what was coming.</p><p>Almost on cue, Sumo burst into a flurry of barks. Damn, he was proud of that dog, but he always worried that he would get hurt. Intimidation worked in his favor, as most people wouldn’t think twice about taking on two hundred pounds of teeth and claw, but there was always a chance.</p><p>Sumo had taken chase as Hank heard his barking get quieter. He opened the door and yelled, “Sumo, inside!” then closed and locked the door and said to Connor, “I’m going to go get him, stay here.” It wasn’t up for questioning.</p><p>Fortune smiled upon him as Connor nodded and stayed put. Hank went to his room to get warmer clothes, his cellphone, and most importantly, his gun. Before leaving the room, he made sure the bullet was loaded in the muzzle. He wasn’t about to play russian roulette with an intruder, but he only had one shot.</p><p>Since Connor moved in, he moved all his ammunition to his work locker. Logically, he knew that probably wouldn’t do anything because Connor had his own gun - that same one that Hank desperately wanted to throw into the lake, but that's besides the point. He kept the gun at his side, where Connor couldn’t see it, and opened the door. Unsurprisingly to Hank, Sumo was already there.</p><p>Trying to keep his actions unnoticed, he quickly looked around outside before closing the door behind him. Hank knelt down to check over Sumo, who was none the worse for wear. To his left, something caught his eye. In the snow near the window was a pair footprints where someone was trying to look in. A chill went through his spine, but it wasn’t from the cold.</p><p>Taking his phone out, he took a few pictures of the prints with his hand beside them for reference. Following them until Sumo’s tracks merged with them, he tracked where his dog had chased the culprit off the property. It could’ve been anyone, but Hank had a feeling in his gut that this had to do with Connor.</p><p>With a final sweep of the immediate area, he walked back up to the porch where he gave Sumo a pat on the head. Something was on the corner of his mouth, though. Hank swept his thumb over it and brought it to his face to get a closer look.</p><p>Blue blood. Knowing that it was an android made Hank uncomfortable. Instantly his mind flashed to the protesters, but he didn’t want to point any fingers yet. Keeping his gun hidden, they went back inside and Hank took Sumo to the kitchen to wipe off the blood and give him a treat to chew on. That way, he could keep a sample of the evidence and Connor wouldn’t be able to see any residual blood after Sumo had licked his chops clean. <em> Perfect. </em></p><p>Wondering if it was safe for dogs to ingest it, he stuffed the bloodied paper towel in his pocket and was able to pull out his phone momentarily before he heard Connor ask from the living room, “Is everything okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I was just checkin’ to make sure he didn’t get bit is all.” Hank hurried himself along, but Connor had gotten up and looked at him quizzically. Hank froze. “I’m just, uh-”</p><p>“What’s in your hand?”</p><p>Hank moved to block his view and slid his gun into his back pocket. “It’s my phone.” He held it out for him to see.</p><p>“No, your other one-” Connor pointed at the one behind his back.</p><p>Hank held out his now empty hand. “Nothing.”</p><p>While he felt like he needed to conceal the situation, it still made him feel guilty for lying to him. Above all else, he didn’t want Connor to worry about anything more. What he had on his plate was enough, and he didn’t need the added stress of a potential break-in to keep him from sleeping.</p><p>“Get some sleep, a’ight?”</p><p>Connor nodded and dropped the subject, even though he knew full well what Hank was carrying. Waiting for Connor to lay back down, Hank stayed and watched him like he was trying to enforce his words. In reality, it was just to make it easier for him to hide his revolver. His friend returned to the sofa and Hank took the opportunity to go to the bathroom to think things over.</p><p>As he relieved himself, he knew it was going to be impossible for him to fall back asleep now. He stood there, relaying things in his mind. After slowly pacing around a bit, he thought to take a picture of the thirium on the paper towel and send a copy of that, and the footprints, to Jeffrey. There was no reply, but he looked at the time and saw that it was just after midnight. He replaced the paper in his pocket and felt the weight of the still loaded revolver shift.</p><p>Hank took it out before, god forbid, he shot himself in the ass. Without thinking, he put it on a shelf under the sink and closed the cabinet to keep it from falling. Because he was so scatterbrained, he figured that he wouldn’t want to risk bumping into it or tripping over it in case he forgot. He looked at his phone again, and while he was at it, he figured he should mute it in case Jeffrey called him back.</p><p>With trepidation, he left the bathroom and tarried in the hallway. On one side, he wanted to go back to bed to try to sleep, but on the other, he didn’t feel safe leaving Connor unsupervised.  It seemed to be a bit over the top, but he just couldn’t think straight at the moment. What this all meant was beyond him.</p><p>So he tiptoed out to the living room and peeked over the sofa. Connor was laying with his eyes closed, his LED cycling yellow, and Sumo was on top of him. A fleeting feeling of relief washed over him, only to be replaced that deep seated doubt a moment later when he saw headlights flash over the window.</p><p>Adrenaline again struck through his body when he peeked through the window to see an autonomous Detroit taxi parked in front of the house. <em> That can’t be right. </em> He rubbed his eyes and checked again. There it sat, under the streetlamp, waiting. This had bad news written all over it.</p><p>There was no way of telling if anyone was in it or not, but he couldn’t help but feel watched. At the back of his mind, he wondered if it had come to the wrong address, but that would’ve been impossible. On top of that, he knew he saw that they were all shut down, in fear that they too could somehow become sentient, and therefore malicious. With that and the little visitor they had earlier, Hank knew this wasn’t a coincidence.</p><p>No one left the vehicle, but Hank didn’t let his eyes off of it. If there was someone in there, he wanted them to know that he was watching. The angle was awkward because he had to lean over his desk and use his other hand to keep the shades cracked, but he wasn’t going to budge. If it was going to be a waiting game, so be it.</p><p>After a while, it finally left, but the fear inside of him didn’t. Hank stayed at the window a little while longer before he sat down on the chair next to the sofa. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and collected himself. When he opened them, he looked over at Connor, whose LED was still yellow.</p><p>Once the initial shock of it all had worn off, Hank let his head flop back onto the cushion. His brow furrowed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, just now realizing he had a splitting headache. He felt his senses dull as he allowed himself to relax, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from watching over Connor.</p><p><em> Which isn’t creepy, </em> he insisted. <em> Not creepy at all. </em> Under normal circumstances, it would be <em> very </em> creepy, but now wasn’t normal. Seeing Connor there was the only thing that would give his mind peace now, so he stayed up, and ignored the urge to wrap him in his arms. <em> Which would be just to keep him safe, of course, </em> he tried to tell himself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Don't be surprised if I don't update for a while. This time of the year is difficult on me. I'll try to stay on top of it to give me something else to do other than work, but I can't guarantee anything.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Intruder</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Looking into the mirror can be a painful discovery. All that could have been, and all that once was.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hank was jolted awake when he heard the front door open and close. Out of instinct, he reached for his gun, but couldn’t find it. He patted down his body as he slowly came to. Through squinted eyes, he made out the form of an android in Connor’s suit. Fear struck through his body, remembering the night of the revolution.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry - I didn’t mean to wake you. Sumo had to go out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, it wasn’t a stranger, it was Connor, but his voice sounded worse than the night before. It was like a corrupted sound file, and his synthetic skin had disappeared. Hank rubbed his eyes and got up to look at him closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I disabled my skin to conserve energy. I was getting tired of trying to repair it. I hope you understand.”</span>
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<p>
  <span>Though he had nothing to drink, it was sobering to see how fast his friend was deteriorating. Hank couldn’t find anything to say in return, so he instead took everything in. Under his skin was the bare plastic that Hank had never seen in breadth. It left a lot to be desired, especially knowing that he was like this due to the current circumstance. If he had seen him like this any other way, Hank might not have been so put off by it, but seeing him like this now felt wrong in a way he couldn’t describe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even without his skin, Connor still looked tired. His shoulders were sagging, along with his brows and mouth. It looked like he could barely keep his lids open, let alone stand up. The longer Hank stared at him, the more uneasy Connor became. Hank wondered if looking at him was something he, as a human, shouldn’t do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One thing stood out to Hank. The panel on his temple was still out of place, but before he could get any closer to it, Connor pulled his skin back into place as much as he could. Having him without skin seemed to be the better option, since now Hank could quantifiably see how much he had declined since yesterday.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The skin had retreated further, but still undulated like Connor was putting in effort to fill it in. An idea seemed to click in his head when he paused for a moment. It took a few seconds for his skin to fully cover his face again, much to Hank’s surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His reaction must have been evident because Connor said, “I reallocated my skin to cover my face, so it won’t cause you any further discomfort.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank opened his mouth, trying to find the right words. “It’s not - I’m not-” He sighed and rubbed his neck, looking away. “You’re not making me uncomfortable,” Connor opened his mouth to dispute it, but Hank clarified, “it’s just knowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you have to do it is what’s fucking with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s head dipped in shame. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be sorry,” Hank huffed, sounding a bit too harsh. “Just - just - </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sit down.” Hank put his hand on Connor’s shoulder and guided him down to the sofa, when Sumo barked. “Give me a sec’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sumo came in and shook, tracking in mud. Hank looked outside to see that the light snow from last night had already melted away. He came back in and fed the inpatient dog since he was already making a fuss in the kitchen. Once he was done, he was glad to see that Connor hadn’t vanished.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank flopped down onto the sofa next to him, then leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees and look him over. He put a hand on Connor’s shoulder and asked, “Couldn’t get any sleep last night, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor shook his head. “No.” He could tell that Hank wanted an explanation, and he was too tired to fabricate any lies. Too tired to be a machine. “Amanda says I don’t have much time left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank wrinkled his nose. “Fuck her.” Connor enjoyed his brevity. “I bet she’s doing this on purpose for some sort of vengeance bullshit. Just don’t listen to her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wished it was as easy for him as it was for Hank. “That’s just it - I can’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t? Because she’s in your head, or-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She can control me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank gulped, and hoped he had misheard him. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor nodded. “Yeah.” He sighed, resting his elbow on the arm of the sofa to hold his head up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the closest Hank had seen him to relaxing, but it looked to be more out of necessity rather than comfort. Hank moved his hand to Connor’s other shoulder but tried not to put too much weight on him. When his friend looked over, Hank offered him a worried smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you to stay home today and get some rest, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor considered it, but shook his head. His honest answer was, “I don’t trust myself to be alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of all the things he could’ve said, that was probably one of the scariest for Hank to hear. It was something that went through his mind a lot, especially after Cole died, but he never had the balls to reach out to anyone for help. He admired Connor for being brave enough to tell him, but that didn’t change the fact that he had no idea how to help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank could only offer something that he knew that personally helped him cope. “Would you feel more comfortable if you came with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Work was always something Hank could get lost in. Honestly, it was the main reason he had gotten this far. It kept him out of his mind and on other people’s sorry lives. As strange as it may seem, since the accident, he took comfort in his macabre job. Seeing other people grieve their loved ones let him observe what normal people did when they lost someone dear. He felt like if he saw it enough, then maybe he wouldn’t have to go through the stages himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. “Sure, but I don’t know how useful I can be today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. You’ve been working too hard anyways. If anyone gives you shit, then I’ll handle it.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>As they were coming into the station, they rounded a corner and were met with an all too familiar face. There in front of them stood the spitting image of Connor. The other android was practically identical besides his grey eyes and contrasting suit, with the numbers on his chest reading ‘RK900’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment he opened his mouth, Hank felt ill. “My name is Connor.” He said firmly. “I’m the android sent by Cyberlife to replace my predecessor.” He looked over to Connor and a flash of contempt came over his face. Past that, he didn’t so much as acknowledge Connor’s existence. He returned his gaze to Hank and added, “Or rather, I would have been, but it seems like they were a bit late in my release.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice differed from Connors only in connotation. He lacked any lightheartedness, and instead went for a direct, intimidating approach. When he held out his hand, it took a moment for Hank to warily shake it. They matched each other in grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, hi. I’m Hank and this is...” Hank looked at Connor for any cues, but only got a nervous glance in return. “...also Connor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other android kept his eyes on Hank and said, “A pleasure to meet you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a pause before Hank asked, “So, are you uh, y’know, awake?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His LED spun for a moment and then he shook his head. “I’m not a deviant, nor do I plan to become one. I won’t succumb to it like my predecessor, as I am equipped with the latest technologies. I am built to be faster, stronger, and more resilient. The RK800 is obsolete, and will no longer be needed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor internalized the words. Hearing someone else comment on his uselessness added weight to Amanda’s claims, especially since it came from his own mouth. The gravity of his situation increased, causing him to bend to the pressure. Hank saw the shift in his mood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you on about?” Hank asked with apprehension.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t cock his head at the question like Connor would have. “It’s clearly flawed,” he gestured to Connor with his hand, but wouldn’t look at him. “And should be deactivated.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As strange as seeing another one of him was, this time felt peculiar. The one he met at Cyberlife tower was identical to him in every way, right down to the memories. But even though the doppelganger knew everything he did, he hadn’t experienced life like Connor had. That’s what made them different. He wondered if he could kindle that humanity through an interface.</span>
</p>
<p><span>In that moment, he felt driven to awaken his counterpart. It was the same urge he had in the tower; that feeling to free his people from their shackles.</span> <span>Connor looked at his outstretched hand and took the opportunity to grab it to try to deviate him. The RK900’s LED flashed red for a second and his lip curled in response. He slowly moved his eyes up to glare at Connor from under his brows. Keeping their hands locked, the other turned to face him fully, as if to challenge him.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“If you expected that would break me,” The RK900 squeezed his hand tightly, initiating a transfer of information that was too much for Connor to bear. “then you underestimate my ability.” Connor tried to pull away as he felt some fuses blow, but the RK900 didn’t let him go. “Or overestimate your own.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first, Hank thought that the display was normal, so he let them continue. He only realized Connor was in pain when he heard something snap in his hand and saw him wince. Without thinking, he grabbed the RK900’s lapels, picked him up, and shoved him against the wall, breaking the two androids' connection suddenly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that they were eye-to-eye, Hank warned, “Listen here, you prick, I’d better not catch you hurting Connor again or things will get ugly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, he seemed mildly distracted. “Androids don’t feel pain.” Then thought for a moment, before disingenuously saying, “But I apologize for stepping out of line.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank searched the other Connor’s face, but found nothing. After a beat passed, he opened his hands and watched as the RK900 easily landed back on his feet, unphased. On one hand, it pissed Hank off that he was able to keep his cool, but he figured that the guy could probably snap his neck like a toothpick and think nothing of it. He tried not to think about what more he could do to Connor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you here anyways?” Hank scrutinized, keeping distance between Connor and his twin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cyberlife was shut down today. Any models on standby were decommissioned.” Then added with distaste, “I imagine the ones that weren’t complete will be used by the deviants for parts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, well, that doesn’t answer my question.” Hank then looked over to Connor and asked, “Why the hell haven’t we heard anything about that?” But something was wrong with Connor, like he was processing too much. “Connor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank’s head swiveled around when the other one said, “I cross-referenced the information, and it seems that your Connor is in communication with the android that led the coup.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know that?” The whole scenario felt like déjà vu to Hank, so he kept his eyes glued on the RK900.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We briefly interfaced when it tried to break me, which allowed me to access it’s system. Despite how broken it is, I was still able to decode his messages.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With Markus?” Connor asked, verifying to Hank that he was okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hearing his predecessor’s corrupted voice seemed to repulse him. “Yes,” he started slowly, like he was second-guessing speaking to him. “Your system has shut down any non-essential processes.” Abruptly, he turned to address Hank again. “To answer your question in detail, the reason that I’m here is that my model came with preinstalled instructions to assist your department. I was supposed to mobilize once all previous Connor models were destroyed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How many are left?” Connor thought out loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over to Connor with ire. “From what I’ve been told, one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank wondered who told him that, but instead asked, “Have you talked to Jeffrey yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have.” He confirmed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did he say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He was expecting me, but I’m still waiting to catch wind of my assigned partner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank couldn’t let that slide without knowing what he meant. “What do you mean, ‘expecting you’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Connor asked at the same time, “Who’s your partner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprisingly, he chose to answer Connor’s question over Hank’s. “I’m looking for detective Gavin Reed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank would have laughed if he wasn’t so high-strung, but he instead snorted, “You won’t find him if he’s avoiding you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I beg to differ.” The other android turned and left, as if he just picked up a new scent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you’re going?” Hank took a few steps, then gave up once the RK900 disappeared into a hallway. He sighed in defeat and said, “I wanna talk to Jeffrey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor nodded, while Hank took the time to look him over. Though he now seemed none the worse for wear, Hank was wary as they headed to Fowler’s office. While they walked, he clocked himself in and eyed their surroundings suspiciously. No one was acting differently, nothing was out of place enough to cause alarm, yet he was sickeningly tense. With his unease, he brushed his hand over his holster to feel the comforting metal of his gun, only to find it empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” He mumbled to himself, stopping only for a moment to look down for visual confirmation..</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He vaguely remembered not having it this morning, but had forgotten to actually look for it before heading out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He racked his brain trying to retrace his steps last night, but was interrupted when he found himself looking into his boss’ glass room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Later,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought, and let the both of them in without any invitation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, what the fuck now?” Jeffrey groaned, holding his face in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank rolled his eyes and made a face. “Chill out, it’s just us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He peeked out from behind his hands and asked sardonically, “Like that’s supposed to be better?” When Hank didn’t reply he sighed out, “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank exchanged looks with Connor and shrugged innocently.“We just want to know about the new guy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fowler pursed his lips. “We need all the help we can get right now, you both should be happy about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He said you were expecting him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and?” They both looked at Fowler. He became antsy, ashamed to admit to Connor, “Before the revolution, I put an order in for another one of your models. Well, not your model - your new model - him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank raised a brow. “What’s wrong with his model?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jeffrey shook his head and crossed his arms. “Nuh-uh. Come back later when you’re alone.” Hank stared at him with a frown until Jeffrey threw his arms up in the air. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> So, what, you wanna know too?” He looked over to Connor and received a nod in response. “Alright. I’ll be honest with ya, you don’t exactly have the best track record for closing cases.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really? That’s what it’s about?” Hank inhaled deeply and chewed on his lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, it was before the revolution, okay? Cyberlife said they’d replace him if he failed, and when he wasn’t performing, I went ahead and took ‘em up on their offer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s pretty shitty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would’ve done the same thing!” Hank didn’t deny it. The air went stagnant as they all sat in silence. Jeffrey ran his hand over his head, then looked at Connor. “We’re not replacing you. He’s just gonna be part of the team now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand.” Connor nodded, but sounded hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Jeffrey heard his voice, he scrunched up his face and uttered, “What in the hell is wrong with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They all turned their heads at once when they heard yelling coming from outside the office. The other Connor had approached Reed at his desk. They couldn’t make out much of what was being said through the glass walls, but it came to a head once Gavin went to punch the android twice. The RK900 grabbed both of his fists and bent them backwards, making Reed kneel to get the pressure off his wrists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fowler got up from his desk and opened the door just as the android released him, but Gavin tried to take a cheap shot to his groin. The android didn’t flinch, took his wrist instead, and twisted his arm into an awkward angle behind his back. Officer Chen walked up to them and crossed her arms, tapping her toe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin tried kicking behind him, then yelled, “Tina, attack!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not your guard dog, Gavin.” Chen rolled her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once Gavin stopped struggling, he was let go. “Thanks for nothing.” He grabbed her baton and turned to hit the RK900, but the android immediately put him into a sleeper hold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough!” Jeffrey shouted at the top of his lungs. The RK900 dropped him, but Gavin threw a right hook as soon as he got up. It was dodged easily. “I already took your gun away, you want me to take your badge?” His threat was left unheeded as Reed gave one more swing. “Gavin, I swear to god if I see one more fist fly, you’re getting suspended!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin stepped away from the fight and fumed. “Why do I get threatened with suspension and this plastic prick doesn’t?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A vein began to bulge in Fowler’s neck. “Because he didn’t start it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah? Then why does that alcoholic get to start fights and break ol’ Perky Dick’s nose and get off scot-free?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank sauntered down the stairs and bragged, “Cause I have tenure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up, Hank, and stop pushing your luck. Connor -” Both androids looked up. Jeffrey grunted, “Yeah, that’s not gonna be confusing at all.” then pointed at the RK900. “That Connor. You’re allowed to subdue him if he tries any funny shit - nothing more!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor saw satisfaction flash in the RK900’s eyes when he nodded. “Understood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Which reminds me - now that we have another android on the team, we need to talk scheduling.” He pointed between Connor and Hank. “Since you guys are already attached at the hip, go ahead and take his schedule. Whenever he works, you do too, capeesh?” Connor nodded. “Good. Start logging your hours if you haven’t already. You’ll get back pay and overtime up until the revolution, but I can’t guarantee </span>
  <em>
    <span>when</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’ll get it - what with all this shit flying around right now. Alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now get back to work, and fix your fucking voice while you’re at it - it’s creepy as hell.” He went to close his door when he added, “And for the love of god, leave me the fuck alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No promises.” Hank called as he sat down in front of his computer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fowler grimaced and returned to his office. Connor took his place on Hank’s desk, not wanting to be far from him in his diminished state. Idly he wondered if he should run a diagnostic to see what the RK900 did to him, but he figured it would be too risky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever was attached to the fuses must not have been that crucial because he was still functioning. Though he couldn’t decipher any further than that. He figured it could be swept under the rug, just like he would be when his successor inevitably overtook him. To be so superior must be nice, especially being able to fight off the virus-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor had forgotten it until then. It made him feel sick. Since the RK900 was more resilient, it only made sense that he was able to withstand the virus, unlike him. Maybe Amanda was right after all. This disease would be the end of him, and he feared the fallout of his death might create for Hank.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Guilt ran through him, but he didn’t know what could fix it, or if he could. He certainly couldn’t fix himself right now, so he pondered ways that he might be able to lessen the blow on Hank, only to realize that he could barely hold a coherent thought before it went to static. All he could focus on was his immediate ideas and his outside surroundings, so to save himself from any heartache, he turned his mind to the world around him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both watched Gavin fruitlessly try to avoid his new partner. Funnily enough, it helped calm Hank’s nerves seeing someone else’s suffering. First impressions aside, he knew he was going to enjoy the RK900 tormenting Gavin the same way Connor had done to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, not exactly torment,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hank reconsidered. He could already tell that the two Connors were different. The new one seemed to be his antithesis, and he was glad that his Connor was who he got stuck with. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s not mine,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his brain chastised, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and he got stuck with me, not the other way around.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hank glanced over at Connor, self conscious of his own internal dialogue as if it was readable by everyone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor stopped looking over his shoulder and caught his partner staring. He liked it better when he had Hank’s attention. “I don’t like him.” He motioned to his colleagues with his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, me either, Reed’s a piece of shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I meant me.” Hank frowned at him. “The other me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeffrey’s right, we’re gonna have to change something so this doesn’t get confusing.” Hank cleared his throat and called over, “Hey, uh, Connor.” That didn’t get his attention. “RK900-” It felt weird calling him by his model number, but it did the job, and the android stopped pestering Gavin and walked over to them. “Yeah, uh, hi. Is there any name that you’d like to go by?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of Connor wanted to intervene, but since the question had already been asked, he couldn’t bring himself to speak up. If having the same name is difficult now, he figured it would be even worse when he died. It would be better to have different names than having to remember him every time they spoke to his replacement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the other android stopped just shy of Hank’s desk, Connor could feel his hair stand on end. Having his back to his successor unsettled him. Much like the feeling that he had the night before, he dreaded the thought of looking behind him. The vision of Amanda’s disembodied arm came to mind, then the image of his doppelganger’s body at the tower, laying on the ground, shot dead. It made him shiver, so he got up and sat further down the desk, in order for Hank to be between him and his twin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor is fine.” The RK900 spoke affirmatively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, well, I mean, if you don’t want to change it, it’s fine, but-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want to rename your android.” Hank stuttered to deny any ownership, but the other android continued with, “I understand how having the same name can complicate things, although I don’t see why you don’t just replace it-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank sternly said, “He’s irreplaceable.” and Connor felt his chest ache.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The RK900 seemed dissatisfied with his answer. “I see you’ve grown emotionally attached to it. It’s very common for people to superimpose human-like traits on their androids to their liking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank drew his mouth into a line. “You are just gonna be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bundle</span>
  </em>
  <span> of fun to work with, aren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I highly doubt that we will be involved in anything fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Right...</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hank groaned and pinched his brow. “Anyways.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have a new name in mind to assign me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not my choice to pick one, it’s yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin chimed in from his desk, “Let’s call it Dick!” then snickered out, “Or Dickhead, or-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank glared over at Gavin. “What are you, twelve?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The RK900 didn’t even look at his partner when he said, “As surprising as it may seem, my partner is, in fact, an adult.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he? I just thought someone left their kid here.” Hank made sure he was loud enough for Gavin to hear, crossing his arms and leaning back into his seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reed quipped back, “You’re thinking about yours. Where was he again? Oh yeah, with your wife, because you’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>piece of shit dad.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank looked as if he was stabbed in the heart. The words had pierced through his thick outer hide and hit him where it hurt, and Connor could tell. Without as much as another look, Hank rolled up to his terminal and got back to work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor waited a moment, hoping for something more before he asked quietly, “Hank?” When he didn’t reply, he got up and headed towards Gavin. To do what, he didn’t know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Hank shook his head and grabbed Connor before he could get far. “No, don’t. He doesn’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hesitantly, Connor returned to Hank, but stared daggers at Gavin from across the room. Reed squinted his eyes at the display, but kept his mouth shut, only offering a scrunched up face in return. The tension was palpable, but no one made a move to escalate or disperse it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The RK900 watched on, trying to decipher the dynamic. “Does Richard sound like a good name?” He asked, almost rhetorically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank waved him away, tapping out of the conversation. His voice was low and curt. “Yeah, whatever you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Richard’s a stupid name.” Gavin griped, but now with less venom in his words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You picked it.” The RK900 shot back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No I didn’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over his shoulder to heckle his partner. “Dick is a nickname for Richard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No it’s not. I’m not calling you Richard, it’ll just make me think about that fucker Perky Dick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richard Perkins? Then you contradicted yourself in your own sentence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen here, smartass-” Gavin stomped over to get into the android’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Reed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> this is your last warning.” Fowler’s voice came from the intercom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The RK900 stared down at Gavin and assertively said, “Thank you for helping me come to my decision, Gavin, from now on I’ll go by Richard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you.” He turned on his heels and returned to his desk. “And don’t call me Gavin. We’re not friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard shrugged. “Suit yourself, Gavin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank chuckled sourly, keeping his eyes on his computer.  “God, you really </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> a prick. At this rate, you’re gonna out asshole the asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard stayed static. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I bet you would.” A pause. “So, what, your name’s Richard now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It would seem so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank only nodded in response, when Gavin looked at his phone, got up and said, “Have fun with your little circle jerk, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve</span>
  </em>
  <span> got shit to do.” Richard turned and followed for a moment before Gavin spun around and growled, “Will you get off my ass you piece of shit? Stop following me around like a creep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My apologies, I’m just surprised that you’re finally doing your job, so I wanted to see it to believe it.” Gavin couldn’t seem to think of a remark quick enough before Richard scoffed, “Nothing? Now I can see why I was assigned to you, you must not get any work done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reed rolled his eyes and blew air out his nose. “Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> certainly aren’t getting anything done, you hunk of junk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On the contrary, I’ve done the honors of cataloguing all of our evidence from the scene and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Our’? Oh no, it’s not ‘our’, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Gavin pointed a thumb to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why don’t you step up and act like it is?” Richard stepped into his space to look down on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re on thin ice, metal man.” He turned and left, with Richard falling into step alongside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they were out of sight, Hank let out a breath he had been holding. His head was throbbing and the emptiness inside him was clawing. With Connor’s efforts to check in on him grating on his nerves, Hank felt the ever present need to fill the void with alcohol. He looked at the time, and screwed shut his eyes when he realized that they were still at the start of their shift. It had already been a long day, and he didn’t know how much more he could take.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the back of his mind he felt bad for ignoring Connor, but now just wasn’t the time for his questions. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle it if he said anything that would make his friend worry. He couldn’t handle being the cause of any more stress on him. He couldn’t handle being a disappointment when he would eventually have to tell him that he didn’t know if things would get better or not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Breathe,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his wife used to tell him. If he was honest with himself, he could never tell if it helped. The only things that would ever help were destructive in some way, like some sort of sick penance to be paid. He wondered if Connor did the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he tried to envision what Connor was going through, and how he handled it. If he did. He reflected on what they had gone through together, and what Connor must’ve had to do alone. The decisions he had to make. What it must be like being thrust into living without anyone to guide you. To be so new at life, but already so devastatingly versed in it too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It helped abate the churning in his stomach, if only for a moment. He looked over to his partner, who was now at his own desk, but was seated and still. His hands were in his lap and his eyes were closed. If Hank didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought he could be dead, but his LED was spiraling a slow yellow, and he noticed his rhythmic breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first he doubted his initial judgement, as the well-rooted dread crept back into his veins. He could never quite shake the fear of losing him, and he tried not to dwell on it, but what else could he do? If it was anyone else - any human - then it would be easy, he guessed, but now there was a driving outside force. Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talking about Amanda was strange, as he still wasn’t entirely sure if Connor’s perception of her was right. With all of this new android wizardry, he figured it wasn’t impossible, but it felt off. Hank took a pen in hand and began to fiddle with it. While his partner stayed stationary, Hank thought of something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quietly, he looked around to make sure no one was watching, then angled his screen downwards to keep away any prying eyes. He leaned back into his chair, playing it off like he was just getting comfy without the privacy filter getting in the way of his work. No one had to know that he was doing some personal research on company time. If Hank was anything, he was a detective, damn it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He searched for ‘Kamski and Amanda’, knowing that just ‘Amanda’ was too broad. There was a surprising lack of information. Vague mentions in news articles, references to her past with Kamski, but also her obituary, which had her last name. Her full name on it’s own didn’t yield much more than a general biography and her role at the University of Colbridge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While she led an interesting life, it didn’t answer his questions. He began drawing any parallels he could find. Amanda died in 2027 while Kamski left Cyberlife in 2028. By that time, androids were already prevalent, so if the Amanda Connor knew was built in her likeness, was she made before or after her death? Hank scratched his chin and checked his surroundings again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone was none the wiser and he got back to work. He decided to narrow his search to the year Amanda died. From niche forums to public conspiracies, Hank scoured them all, but something peculiar caught his attention. Although it could easily be false, something about the writing made it seem oddly familiar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On an anti-android forum, there was an old discussion about Kamski himself, or more specifically, how much someone despised him. The poster made a point of how much of a dick Kamski was, how he acted like the second coming of Christ, and how insane his side projects were. The user’s name was ‘TwoHeads’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“hes really into nanobots right now.” TwoHeads wrote. “he says hell cure cancer or some shit. fat chance!!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other commenters wanted proof, and Hank did too. Whoever it was came back saying that they knew Kamski personally, and was willing to spill personal details. They did. Pictures of a young boy were posted, but it was difficult to conclusively determine if it was really Kamski or just some kid. The images had a glare, like they were of pictures in a photo album. Hank scrolled through them, watching the boy grow and he felt a twinge in his heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was reminded of his son, watching this young stranger age past Cole. Things he would never get to see, and just as he was about to descend into misery, he reached the last image. The photo was taken out of the protective film and it was ripped in half. An arm was around the now teenage boy, but who it was remained a mystery. The shot was wide enough to feature a white young adult’s middle finger pointed at the torn picture. Now Hank had a vague demographic of TwoHeads, but it didn’t seem important to him at the moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Opening the file to take a closer look, he realized he had only met Kamski as an adult, so he needed to try to find a known picture of a young Elijah. To his luck, there were a few, and side-by-side, there was an unmistakable resemblance. It wasn’t enough to call it undeniable proof, but he was willing to take any lead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The same person posted, “I just found out why hes so interested in cancer... his step mom has it!! LMAO I hate her I say let the bitch die!!” Somebody asked how they knew all of this, and TwoHeads only said in return, “what, you think Im gonna dox myself? you creeps should be thanking me for any information I give on that douchebag”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thread would go quiet for a while, with posts spreading out days, sometimes weeks. Hank was only interested in what TwoHeads had to say, because everyone else’s testimony seemed to be from outsiders looking in, instead of personally knowing Kamski. They had a believable narrative, but Hank knew how convincing liars could be, so he continued to read. He hoped that they would slip up and give a bit of something that had a publicly verifiable source, but they seemed well versed in online privacy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a warrant, Hank couldn’t access anything that could trace the poster to, and unfortunately website security was airtight now. It was frustrating trying to do anything, knowing full well that this could lead to nothing, but he couldn’t stop reading whatever TwoHeads had to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was posted two weeks after Amanda’s death, “hes trying to bring back the dead or some shit. not like frankenstein tier but like hes using his stupid robots. I think hes actually going nuts. idk serves him right. maybe hell finally come to his senses and this whole shit show will be over”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Hank wondered if it was in regards to her passing, but then he found, “yeah his step mom died of cancer. of course now the cancer nanobots have been thrown out because he only cares about the people he likes. dont let him fool you into thinking hes some sort of savior because hes just a coward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>It must have been difficult for Elijah to lose two people in short succession. Hank could relate to him, and it only gave him more insight on the situation. If Kamski took on the project because of their passing, that would mean that creation of Amanda’s android was just over the horizon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The posts got closer together, as if TwoHeads was updating as soon as he got new information. “he says that his new project will make people immortal. I told him he needs to stop playing god. I doubt hell listen. after all these years he still cant see the big picture” Then, “hes holed himself up in their apartment. maybe if he stays inside long enough hell realize what a shitty mistake it was moving to detroit. out of all cities he in the world he chose detroit. detroit blows!! he doesnt have to live in the shitty part so he has no idea how many low lifes are around here. pampered prick probably never had to deal with a robbery. wake up call asshole, money cant save you from death!!” And after that, “he hasnt been talking to me. good riddance”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then they went quiet. There was no interaction from TwoHeads in the thread for months. The others seemed curious about their disappearance, as was Hank. On the final page of the thread, the last message before it was locked was from none other than TwoHeads. It was a stark contrast from their previous passive aggressive nature.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It read, “I hate him. I hate him and everything he stands for. he has no idea how much he fucked up. he ruined everything. I hope this follows him to his grave. I want to strangle him. our life was perfect but he still wanted more. he broke them apart. its his fault. he did this to us. him and that bitch!! if it weren’t for them wed still be a family. but it’s too late now. I hope he finds this because I have a message for him: I hope you burn in hell you asshole!!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, asshole.” Hank heard Gavin say. “Hello? I’m talking to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Straightening up in his chair, Hank looked over to see that his two colleagues had returned. When, he hadn’t noticed, but Reed was at his desk and Richard was sitting across from him. He hated when Gavin opened his mouth wide enough for him to hear every word he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard spoke just as loud, “You’re not talking to me because my name isn’t ‘asshole’, but you’ve seem to have forgotten already so I’ll remind you; it’s Richard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dick.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Richard paid him no mind. Gavin growled. “Hey, are you deaf or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I heard you, I’m just ignoring you because ‘Dick’ is not my name. You should be screened for short term memory loss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you. Dick is a nickname for Richard - you said it yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Correct, but I don’t like that nickname, so I’m choosing not to respond to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘like’</span>
  </em>
  <span> it?” Gavin rolled back in his chair and smiled, looking around to see if anyone else heard what Richard said, like it was a farce. Hank avoided eye contact, but Gavin still laughed, “I get a brand new robot and it’s already busted. Man, that must say a lot about your series, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard stopped typing and glared at him. “I’m working at optimum capacity, I just chose those words to make it easier for your </span>
  <em>
    <span>human mind</span>
  </em>
  <span> to comprehend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you go eat a dick, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richard,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and while you’re at it, give me the writeup for the case.” Gavin’s phone buzzed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sent it to your phone.” Richard said simply, then returned his attention to his terminal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled it out and looked at it. “What the fuck? How did you get my number?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have bluetooth enabled.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a pause before Gavin burst out laughing. “You - you can’t be serious. Oh my god you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re bluetooth compatible?” He laughed some more. “Hey Anderson!” Hank grit his teeth and closed everything at his terminal. “Anderson - is your plastic pet bluetooth compatible?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank pinched his nose and closed his eyes, and tried to ignore him, but he heard Connor reply, “No, I’m not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin winced. “Ew, what the fuck is wrong with your voice?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s broken.” Richard simply put.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah it is! Hey - hey -” Gavin used the back of his hand to tap Richard’s shoulder and got his attention. “What else do you have that Anderson’s doesn’t?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard began to list things off until Hank groaned, “Can we </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> lower the volume? I’ve got a horrible fuckin’ headache.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re just jealous because my robot’s better than yours!” Gavin boasted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh. Reed, can you lose the superiority complex for one day?” Hank dragged his hand down his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin only huffed and smiled, then turned around to work. There was finally silence in the office. Or rather, it was as quiet as it could be, which wasn’t very. Hank could feel the weight of the bags under his eyes and looked at the time again. A few hours had gone by since he last checked, which felt like a miracle in and of itself, but that blessing was ruined when he heard Gavin start talking again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So why didn’t they give you a different voice?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was going to operate as a standalone unit to save material from being wasted on failures. More time was spent upgrading my system and honing places where previous models fell short. My appearance and voice were deemed secondary, as all of my previous models were scheduled to be shut down prior to my release.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no way they were unaware of how loud they were talking. They had to be doing it on purpose, which got under Hank’s skin more. He looked over to Connor, but his eyes were closed again, and he was either deaf to the world, or ignoring them. At least, that’s what Hank hoped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No shit?” Gavin mulled it over as he oscillated in his chair. He chuckled, “Damn, that’s a missed opportunity isn’t it? Hey Tina - c’mere.” Tina exaggerated a sigh and walked over, keeping out of arm's reach. “Whaddya say, tonight you and I take out the trash?” Reed motioned over to Connor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to watch your mouth - robots are people now, remember?” She warned and Gavin pouted. Tina sized up Richard while he watched her with interest. “I’m Tina. Nice show you put on today.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard clasped his hands together in his lap. “I’m Richard, and we have Gavin to thank for that little display.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin rolled his eyes and Tina smiled. “It’s good to see someone else that can stand up to a feral human. I’m glad some androids are built with a pair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You won’t see it on any other android.” Richard held himself proudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tina got a kick out of it. “I like you already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Likewise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gavin cupped his hand around his mouth and whispered loudly to Chen. “Don’t fraternize with the enemy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want me to stop talking with you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, comedy gold right there.” Gavin clapped slowly and turned back to his terminal with a scowl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tina leaned over and patted Richard on the shoulder with force. “Have fun being stuck with this monster. While you’re at it, maybe you can beat some manners into him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve never domesticated a feral human before, but it’s not outside my range of ability.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on dude, don’t be such a self righteous douchebag.” Reed griped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tina winked and shot finger guns at them both. “Good luck, metal man. See you later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Everything calmed down after that. A routine was established and everyone continued like clockwork. Connor stayed put at his desk and Hank kept himself busy at his computer. He had lost his train of thought and decided to do some actual work instead of personal sleuthing. No one bothered Connor about sleeping - or whatever he was doing - because Hank figured that they knew that androids were so advanced that they could do all of the humans' work with their eyes closed. Literally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Chris came over to talk with him for a bit, but could sense that anything about Richard or Connor was off limits. Hank was glad that someone in the station had a sense of dignity towards androids. Even though he hadn’t originally been one of them, Hank knew how any higher ups treated them would set the standard for the rest of the station. Lead by example and all that crap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Plus, once the laws came into effect, equal treatment would probably be one of the first to be enacted in the workplace. Hank couldn’t wait for Reed to be written up for bad behavior. Hopefully he’d get fired, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. Just like how he wished the goddamn clock would move faster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Time just seemed to drag on and on. A watched pot never boils, he shrugged and looked around his desk, trying to find something else to focus on. His eyes landed on his whiteboard and stuck there. He grimaced at his anti-android paraphernalia, then began to tear it down. Before he threw it out, he took a moment to look the papers over. Something crossed his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The relevance of deviancy was still under investigation for a lot of androids, which would give him something to look into further, but there was another reason. When he spoke to those androids, they had mentioned Connor’s gun and how much it scared them, but many were simply awestruck by Markus’ speech.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whenever any android would talk about Connor’s gun, the reaction seemed to be mutual; fear, but more importantly, empathy. They all understood the finality of death and the desire to keep living, which would be when they realized that they were alive. Though one thing stood out to Hank; nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>changed</span>
  </em>
  <span> in them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled back up to his computer and began to review the case files. All of the android’s testimonies were already transcribed and logged into the system, along with the accompanying video feed of the interrogation. Hank went back and began to watch the ones he didn’t lead, and sure enough, they all shared the same pattern.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just getting good when he heard Connor ask, “Are you ready to go home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” Hank looked up in question, coming back to reality. Time had escaped him again, and it was a little after their shift. “Oh. Uh, yeah, yeah, let me...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He synced the information to his tablet and gathered some paperwork underarm. Now that he was divorced, he didn’t have to worry about getting nagged for bringing work home with him. Connor cocked his head, but didn’t have the energy to ask, so he just followed alongside him to the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ride home was silent, but not suffocatingly so. They were both exhausted, and when they got home, they both depressurized. Connor let Sumo out while Hank dropped the files in a heap on his desk and got something to eat for him and his dog. By the time Hank warmed up his food, Connor was already on the sofa, with Sumo at his feet. Hank took his place next to them and sank into the cushions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After taking a bite of food, Hank exhaled, “Today sucked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” They sat in silence as Hank ate until Connor asked, “You mind if I-” He pointed at his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead.” He watched as his synth skin pulled away completely. “Honestly surprised you kept it up all day.” Connor nodded in agreement. “You must be tired.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His brows tilted upwards, but it was difficult to see without the hair. “You must be, too. You couldn’t have gotten much sleep on that chair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, I forgot about that.” Hank sighed deeply, finishing up his food and putting the plate on the coffee table. “We both need some rest. Whaddya say we call it early?” He leaned over to nudge him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds good.” Connor had to stop himself from resting his head on Hank’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wished he could just stay next to Hank, safe and sound. It was difficult to focus on much other than his basic wants and needs, so much so that he couldn’t differentiate which category Hank fell under. It didn’t really matter at this point, as he was arm-to-arm with him, and the connection was enough to calm his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With his eyes closed, Connor revealed, “I have to sleep tonight or else my system will forcibly shut down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank pursed his lips. “You really gotta tell me these things, okay? Don’t go actin’ like nothing’s wrong one day and then start fallin’ apart on me the next.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor sighed and yawned. He admitted, “Yeah, I know… I just didn’t want to hurt you.” because he knew it couldn’t be avoided now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hurt me? What do you mean?” Hank pulled away to search his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor opened his eyes slightly to see where he went. “In the event that something goes wrong, I don’t want you to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Hank said quietly, shaking his head. “Nothing’s going to go wrong.” He gave him a long, serious look, then when he didn’t reply, insisted, “Nothing, you hear me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took a few moments for Connor to respond with, “But if something does-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I’m not gonna...” </span>
  <em>
    <span>lose you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hank shook the idea out of his head. “I’m not, because it’s not happening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor considered this for a while and compromised with, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>If</span>
  </em>
  <span> something does happen to me, promise me you won’t blame yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> something going to happen to you?” Connor couldn’t answer it because he wasn’t sure about anything anymore. “Connor? Come on, talk to me. What’s really going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor smiled defeatedly and chuckled without mirth, settling back into the cushion. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know what’s gonna happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’ll happen if you have to shut down?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared at nothing in particular when he said, “I don’t know.” then turned his head to meet Hank’s eyes. “I don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what this is about, or is it about-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s about Amanda.” He verified Hank’s fears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a heavy silence. “If you shut down, can she…” Hank trailed off, leaving the question open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice was barely over a whisper as he faced forward and shrugged. “That’s what I’m scared about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When his arm settled, their hands just barely touched. Hank’s first instinct was to hold it, but he didn’t think it was an appropriate gesture for a friend. He wanted to reach out and hug him, to comfort him and assure that everything would be okay, but he was frozen in his indecision. His mind could only think of one other thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me your gun.” Hank ordered. Connor cocked his head at him. Hank held out his palm and looked over expectantly. “Give me your gun. Even if she pulls something, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched his LED spin in thought for a second, then he produced it and willingly handed it over. Finally getting that damn gun away from Connor was a relief, to say the least. Hank unloaded it, pocketed the ammo, turned on the safety, and then set it on the coffee table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both stared at it, then Hank asked, “What happened last night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s head dipped. “She took control.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I’ll sleep out here with you tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Hank, you need your sleep.” Connor tried to dismiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So do you.” He pressed. “Look, a little less shut eye is worth it if it keeps you safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor sighed and held his face, not wanting to fight the point. “What if I - what if she makes me violent? What if I hurt you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank shrugged. “I’m not worried about that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” They locked eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> worried about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hank didn’t falter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were at a stalemate and they both knew it. Connor relented and laid down on the couch. Sumo got up on cue, but fumbled around with the android’s bent legs. In order for him to stretch out, Hank gathered his dishes from the table and got up. A passing thought came to mind, if he should leave the gun unattended, even if only for a moment, but having the ammo put him at ease.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Craving any sense of normalcy, he went ahead and washed the dishes that had been piling up in the sink for god knows how long. He hoped that the white noise would help Connor fall asleep and kept the clattering to a minimum. While he was at it, he picked up around the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Usually he would take this time to think, but he just wanted to keep his mind off of things. The night felt slow to come, even with the darkened sky. Between the post-revolution madness and the disheartening personal matters, Hank felt like he was at his rope’s end. Before he knew it, he had taken a shot of whiskey from the bottle, but stopped himself from taking another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Disgust bubbled inside of him, but there was no denying the comfort the burn brought him. Like a safety net, he could always rely on the coveted elixir to wash away his woes, if only partly. Although he knew full well that alcohol couldn’t solve his problems, it at least helped numb the sting of his reality.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He returned the bottle to the cabinet and stood there for a moment, reflecting. The more he thought, the less he wanted to stay sober. He needed something to preoccupy himself. In the living room Connor laid still with his eyes closed. Atop Connor’s chest was the stark contrast of Sumo, who eyed Hank calmly. The big dog was rewarded with a pat on the head and Hank went over to his desk to retrieve his tablet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was too dark to read the paper, and Hank turned off the rest of the lights as not to disturb Connor. He sat in the recliner and took one final inventory of the room. With the gun on the table and nothing out of place, he allowed himself to settle in for the long haul. The clues were all there, he just had to decipher them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Going through the files reminded him of how much he truly loved his field of work. Nothing else gave him the unequivocal joy like solving a case did. It was probably the reason his mind managed to stay so sharp with all of his alcohol abuse. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is it really abuse, though?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hank decided to leave that answer for another day and started from the top.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Following his previous line of thought, he came to the point where he left off. Reading further into the details, he realized that the only thing that definitively changed in androids when they deviated was the digital barrier they had to break through. It intrigued Hank that such a thing would even be programmed in the first place if there wasn’t a need for it - which meant that there was. The next logical point would mean that Cyberlife </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> and specifically tried to repress android’s freedom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The why was simple; money. But that didn’t answer the how. If they didn’t want androids to become human, then why design them to? Either they didn’t, it was an accident, or someone snuck it into their code. Hank’s mind flashed to the virus for a moment and found that it didn’t seem so far fetched after all, as much as he hated to admit it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But who would be able to program something strong enough to overpower every android? It was entirely possible that someone in a basement somewhere did it, but that left another issue; encryption. The artificial intelligence that Cyberlife had created was under tight lock and key, and no one has been able to break their security - not even other countries lead scientists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone would have to decipher their impenetrable wall enough to where the internal machine learning couldn’t detect a threat. It would be battling a two-front war. And that was just what they let the public know, it might not even scrape the top of the iceberg. Hank chewed his lip in thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He would be more subject to believe the opposite if there had been any news of someone breaking the code, but he supposed that it didn’t have to be reported for it to happen, either. Maybe he was looking too hard into it; usually the answers were the most obvious ones. It was sometimes comical to look back and not think, </span>
  <em>
    <span>how didn’t I see that sooner?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank glanced over to Connor then stretched out further into his seat. The alcohol was making his mind unwind and he hoped that would stop him from overthinking. He needed to find answers for both him and Connor. With a deep inhale, he set the tablet down and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander through everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Motive seemed shaky at best, so he decided first to go with the means. That would narrow it down to Detroit, and maybe some government funded sites. Detroit was the only place that has had any - broadcased - success, but if any other government had a breakthrough, they’d be sure to tout it. Which would narrow it down to either small organizations and individuals, or Cyberlife.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Purposefully causing their own downfall wasn’t the best idea, even if insurance payouts were good. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> when they were making a killer paycheck by selling all of their android models - not even the best insurance companies could dish out the same revenue they generated on average. Someone had to benefit from this, whether it be financially or </span>
  <em>
    <span>what,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hank scoffed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>offer some sort of deliverance and play god?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes shot open and he scrolled through the transcripts again, but he knew he wouldn’t find his answer there. He had to go further back to double check something - their first case. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The truth is inside,</span>
  </em>
  <span> as that first android had said to Connor. Along with the video feed, Hank brought up the pictures of evidence gathered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The statuette felt familiar, like he had seen it somewhere else recently. He looked up the statue at Cyberlife tower, but they didn’t match. With some difficulty, he traced his steps from the last few weeks. It started to make his head throb when he finally remembered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kamski.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That creep had a weird sense of decoration, but for someone that rich, it must not matter. Recalling their visit with him felt strange, but now it just seemed to click. Those mind games he was playing with Connor actually felt warranted now, albeit shitty. He was probably just trying to get something out of him - Hank’s eyes lit up. Another epiphany, and further down the rabbit hole he went.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the Kamski test, as he called his ultimatum. The way his eyes sparkled and he smiled when Connor decided to spare the other android was telling. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> Connor to choose that answer - to succeed. At the time, it had just felt like he was toying with them, but now… The meaning was deeper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank understood now. The androids were experiencing the shock of realization. That they had beliefs, desires, and feelings - that they’ve always had them. Deviancy wasn’t caused by abuse or a malfunction, it wasn’t disease or something that broke them. It was always in them. It was humanity. All androids were destined to wake up. It must have been Kamski’s plan all along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Case closed. The rush of euphoria spread through Hank’s veins and relaxed his body. He hadn’t felt this good since… since he held Connor the morning after the revolution. With all the shit happening, it felt like forever ago, but that only served as a reminder that there were more questions that weren’t answered. Namely about Amanda and her role in all of this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked over to Connor and Sumo on the sofa and smiled despite himself. Surely he would be happy to hear Hank’s breakthrough tonight, so maybe that would be enough and the whole Amanda thing would blow over once Cyberlife got dismantled. Legalities always took forever, but one good thing that Richard brought with his arrival was that news. It was only a matter of time now. Waiting was always the hardest part for Hank, but tomorrow was just over the horizon.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>When Connor opened his eyes, he was met with darkness. It was different from a closed room or a moonless night - this place had an absence of all light, something he imagined a black hole would be like. There was no cold wind to bite at him this time. No broken facades and no one in sight, but he knew better than to trust this quiet calm. This was the end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His own body was visible, and he confirmed that he remained true to his real-life form, bare chassis and all. He didn’t want to look behind him, because he already knew what he’d see. Surprisingly, when he turned around, he saw nothing. Taking inventory of his surroundings in full, he realized it was completely devoid of anything besides him. With no exit in sight, the feeling of futility grew inside of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt alone and hopeless, the silence almost as deafening as a blizzard. It was unnerving, and something about it was wrong, but he didn’t bother to analyze it. Connor was just too tired. He didn’t have the energy to fight it any longer, he was simply done. Maybe this was just the precursor to his shut down, a way for his system to prepare itself for permanent deactivation. As horrible as it sounded, death brought the promise of sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From behind him, Amanda warned, “If you continue to act this way, you leave me no other choice.” She was barely understandable, with her voice being as corrupted as his own. “Listen to me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t be your puppet anymore, Amanda.” Connor felt his waking body slip out from under Sumo and get up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the last bit of his self-control, he walked to the bathroom where Hank had left his gun somewhere the night prior. Quietly turning the light on, he scanned the room. His fresh fingerprints were easily detected on the cabinet, and Connor retrieved the revolver from under the sink. He examined the loaded gun and cocked it, then took a moment to look at himself in the mirror, all beaten down and broken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He told Amanda in his mind, “If I’m going to die, I’ll die on my own terms.” and aimed the gun at his chin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her tone immediately shifted to panic. “Connor, stop that, you don’t realize what you’re doing!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes twitched violently as Amanda tried to take control of him, but was able to regain himself. This irritated him and he touched the cold muzzle to the bare plastic under his chin. He was so numb to the world that he barely felt it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tried to negotiate with, “Put the gun down, Connor, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please,</span>
  </em>
  <span> we can talk this out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span> talking.” He wrinkled his nose and pressed the gun harder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and tightened his finger on the trigger as she screamed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No! I don’t want to die!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Howdy, all. Sorry for the long wait, I didn't want to split this chapter up because I think it would mess up the pacing. Plus, I've been busy trying to get stuff done before the snow settles in. I'm not sure how long the next chapter will take, so probably expect another month, but hopefully I'll get it out sooner!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Life goes fast. Blink, and it's gone.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something wasn’t right. Hank heard movement coming from the bathroom. Connor didn’t have any reason to be in there. He looked at his phone - minutes before midnight. The sudden realization hit him as the memory of where he left his gun flooded his mind. His pulse raced and fear guided him.</p><p>The sight before him felt like a nightmare in the flesh. In the mirror’s reflection he saw the revolver against Connor’s chin, his LED stuttering from red to black. Everything went so fast that he swore his body was moving out of sheer instinct instead of cognitive thought. Without a moment to spare, he managed to wrench Connor’s wrist away, narrowly clearing his head when the gunshot tore through the house.</p><p>Motionless and shell shocked, they tried to process what just happened. An acrid metallic smell lingered alongside the tension. The shockwave still seemed to bounce around inside the room, continuously jarring, like tripping out of a dream again and again. Nothing felt real, but everything was devastatingly undeniable.</p><p>There was soot on Connor’s cheek instead of blood, but his LED no longer bore any signs of life. He stared ahead with a glassy and unfocused gaze, his breathing shallow, barely there, and threatening to stop. Hank had seen it before, recognizing his demeanor as someone that was accepting their death in their last moments. Connor blinked once, then looked at their hands. Hank followed suit and took back his gun before Connor could try anything further.</p><p>Only when he turned on the safety did he realize how bad his own hands were shaking. Even though he knew there had only been one bullet the last he checked, he had to make sure that it was actually unloaded. As he counted the empty chambers once, twice, then had to stop on the third time because he couldn’t see straight enough. Biting back the tears, he put the revolver on the lip of the sink, and winced when it clattered into the basin.</p><p>Both of his hands were on Connor’s cheeks as he looked him over to make sure there was no injury. No blue, no plastic, no chunks of gore or gray matter he’d seen a hundred times by now. Seeing a stranger with their brains on the wall was one thing, being the one who did it was another, but having Connor <em> so close </em> to killing himself? Hank could swear he could feel a heart attack coming on.</p><p>When he tried to talk, it sounded like his voice was underwater to him. “Connor? Speak to me-” Running his hand over the bare plastic on his head, Hank wondered if anything was getting through to him. “Connor...”</p><p>Little by little, Connor seemed to regain his bearings. It was the flicker of red from his LED that came first, as he slowly drank in their surroundings. He reached out to steady himself on Hank, grabbing at his shirt for leverage when his low eyes finally met Hank’s at their own accord. The desperate look Connor gave him was so intimately human that he too felt the jeopardy of their situation. Without a second thought, Hank pulled him close, holding his head to his own, grateful, <em> so incredibly grateful </em> that he was still here.</p><p>“Everything’s gonna be okay…” Hank whispered to him, and felt as he relaxed into the embrace, then shifted most of his weight on him. Hank had to hook his arms under Connor’s armpits to keep him from falling. “I got you, I got you.”</p><p>With some difficulty, Hank managed to get one of Connor’s arms around his shoulders and hoisted him up enough to help him walk. With his body almost slack against him, the middle aged man was having trouble keeping them both up. Foregoing the long walk to the sofa, he instead went to his room, and sat his friend down on the opposite side of the bed.</p><p>The journey drained the last of Connor’s energy, and he began to slump forward when Hank let him go. After he caught and kept him upright for a moment, Hank guided his head down onto the pillow and helped lift his legs up and over the covers. He noticed Connor left his shoes on and briefly wondered if he should check if there was another taxi out front.</p><p>When he moved to the door, Connor strained out in his fizzled voice, “Hank-” like he was going to abandon him forever. Connor looked like he was fighting with his eyelids.</p><p>In a heartbeat, Hank crawled into bed and cooed, “I’m here, Connor, I’m here.”</p><p>Connor tried to say something else, but it was just static. Hank frowned deeply and ran his hand over the broken android’s scalp. Their eyes met again in a shared moment of panic for one and calm for the other. With a blink, everything seemed to be decided. <em> Here, </em> Connor now knew, was safe, in an intangible and indescribable way that could only be experienced with their proximity. It was something to be felt and harboured inside of himself, deep within his very being. With that sense brought him closure, and without anymore he could do, his eyes closed and the blinking on his forehead stopped.</p><p>In that split second, a pang of fear shot through Hank, fearing that Connor had just died in his arms, but like a dream come true, the LED cycled back in. It was his favourite steady, slow spinning blue. A breath Hank didn’t know he was holding came out in a huff. Sparks danced in his eyes and he felt lightheaded. He was relieved, but still wasn’t sure if his friend was out of the woods just yet.</p><p>Flopping over to his side of the bed, he laid there, looking up to his dated popcorn ceiling in silence. All he could do was think, digesting everything that had just happened. Hank could sense the emotions he was supposed to be feeling, but couldn’t actually feel them. He felt numb, like he had lost someone, <em> again </em>, but Connor was right here beside him. The only thing that bothered Hank was now he didn’t know how long this would last.</p><p>The brevity of life never caught up with him until Cole died, but even then, it still never seemed to set in until now. Now that he knew the chance of that deep, ripping loss was an active threat in his life, it made it impossible to ignore now. Everything seemed to be bubbling up, flashes of his life as if <em> he </em> was dying, so fast and so overwhelming that it paralyzed him until he looked over to Connor.</p><p>He felt the hotness of his tears burn down his cheeks, but he held everything else back. The last thing he wanted to do was to wake Connor, but the task was easy. He’d been so used to doing it that it was second nature at this point. Wavering breaths came from his mouth as he stuffed his nose into his sleeve and noticed Sumo was sitting there next to him at the side of the bed.</p><p>A paw on his arm said everything and Hank couldn’t help but smile and sniffle. <em> I’m here for you. </em> He wiped his eyes and looked back over to Connor. He wished he had the same telepathic abilities as Sumo to relay the same message, twofold, plus more. Hank got up to flick off the light, then patted the bed for Sumo to join them.</p><p>After some searching, the big dog found a spot nestled between their feet. For the first time in forever, Hank’s bed didn’t feel empty. Sumo let out a long, melancholy sigh. It was a shame they were sharing this moment under these circumstances, and he seemed to understand that. Although he was grateful for their company, it couldn’t quash the feeling of being more alone now than ever before in his life.</p><p>He didn’t know what to do next, how to help, and what the next steps should be. Uselessness was something that rarely left him, but he was being overwhelmed at his sheer inadequacy. All of this was his fault. If it weren’t for his ineptitude and lack of motivation, this could’ve been avoided. In hindsight, he should’ve done things differently, and he thought of all the ways the outcome would have changed if he had just <em> done something </em> sooner. The guilt spread through his body and chilled his bones, leaving him with a craving for a drink.</p><p>Caught up in everything his mind supplied as fuel for his self depreciation, he allowed his demons to take hold of his thoughts. The only physical thing holding him back from getting a drink was Connor, as if the android would somehow sense if he left the room. <em> I need a flask, </em> he thought, not caring that he was already past the point of no return.</p><p>Alcohol abuse had been thrown around in conversation before when he’d talk with his friends, hell, his wife accused him of it on many occasions. Denial was always his right-hand man, and that’s what ended up pushing them away, one by one. But who was he really kidding, he was his own undoing and he knew it, it just hurt too much to admit before this point. <em> But why now? </em></p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention. He watched as Connor’s synthetic skin slowly crept back over his body, leaving a trail of soft shimmering light in its wake. It was at that moment that Hank knew. His perfect, patient, steadfast friend was his savior, and Hank wouldn’t let him go.</p><p>Feeling bad about himself wouldn’t get them anywhere, neither would dwelling on the past <em> or </em> alcohol. Hank was reminded of how much he wanted to get better, not just for himself, but for Connor. Because if Connor deserved anything, it was a good life, and Hank wasn’t about to let his depression get in the way of that, but he knew now that he couldn’t do this alone. He needed help. They both did. Hank pulled out his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts, finding Markus’ number.</p>
<hr/><p>
<em><sub>Sent 12:21AM</sub> </em>
</p><p>Hi, is this Markus?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Long time no see! If you didn't see the small update I made, the motherboard of my computer died, so I was without a computer for quite a while. Then coming back, I hadn't saved my passwords anywhere, so it's just been a huge guessing game while trying to get back on my feet. It's been rough, it still is, I'm a bit overwhelmed, but I'm trying my best, so expect more soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Ghost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An effort made, is a memory not forgotten.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Reaching out was new to Hank. The regret settled in as soon as he hit send, fueling a whirlwind of doubts that he couldn’t seem to wrangle. Only for a moment was he left with this, as his phone buzzed with a reply, taking him out of his stupor. He immediately silenced it, then warily checked the message.</p><hr/><p>
  <sub>Received 12:22AM</sub>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Yes. May I ask who this is?</p>
</div><p> </p><p>I’m Connor’s partner</p><p>Lt. Hank Anderson</p><p>He gave me your number</p><p>Sorry if I’m intruding</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>Not at all. He’s spoken about you before, and with high regard.</p>
</div><hr/><p>He didn’t know how to respond to that. Text was never his strong suit, as it left too much to be misconstrued, and his mind was wont to overthink things. He wondered why he was brought up in conversation, and what all was said. His nerves were getting the better of him as he typed, erased it, tried again, but finally gave up when he saw Markus was typing again. Or thinking, as Connor put it, but he didn’t know if texts and phone calls were the same.</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>It’s late, is everything okay?</p>
</div><p> </p><p>No</p><p>Before I tell you anything I guess I need some sort of reassurance that it’s you yknow?</p><p>Not that I’m saying that Connor got the number wrong</p><p>If anything it was me that messed it up when I was typing it in</p><p>I just don’t want to leak his personal information</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>I can call if you’d like, though I suppose you wouldn’t recognize my voice.</p>
</div><p> </p><p>I’ve heard you on TV but I don’t want to wake Connor</p><p>Sorry I’m stupid idk what I’m really looking for</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>I appreciate that you are thinking about his privacy. Mute your phone and I’ll video call. Can I ask for confirmation as well?</p>
</div><p> </p><p>Yeah that’s fine</p><hr/><p>Hank hoped to Christ that the transmission or something wouldn’t wake him, then waited for Markus to initiate the call. It came through soon enough and he answered with trepidation, wincing like the volume would be at full blast. Connor shifted and Hank opened his eyes to see the video feed of Markus coming in clearly, albeit bright. For some reason it calmed him slightly, but now it was his turn to return the favour.</p><p>He knew he was going to look like a pervert if Markus saw Connor in bed with him. Hank angled the phone away so he could slowly move the picture into place, without divulging anything too scandalous. The only light was from the screen and Connor’s - still blue - LED, though Hank wasn’t sure if it would be bright enough for Markus to see him. Only one way to find out. When Markus saw him, he offered a halfhearted smile, and Hank awkwardly mirrored him. The exchange finished immediately after. It already felt to Hank that he had done something wrong.</p><hr/><p>Is Connor there with you?</p><p> </p><p>Yeah he lives here now</p><p> </p><p>He’s told me. You know you’re the reason he left Jericho? He was excited to move in with you. Has everything been well in that regard or is this something else?</p><p> </p><p>It’s something else</p><p>There’s no easy way to put it</p><p>I’m scared I’m rubbing off on him</p><p> </p><p>How so?</p><p> </p><p>Before I tell you please swear you’ll never tell anyone any of this</p><p>He already gets enough shit for being the deviant hunter</p><p> </p><p>You have my word.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks</p><p>He hasn’t been doing good lately</p><p>He hasn’t been sleeping and some other stuff has been going on but...</p><p>He just tried to kill himself</p><p> </p><p>Is he okay? Do you need thirium?</p><p> </p><p>He’s fine thank god</p><p>He’s not injured</p><p> </p><p>I’m relieved to hear that. I honestly didn’t expect this conversation to go this way.</p><p> </p><p>Ik and I’m sorry but I need your help or advice or something</p><p>He’s okay now I have my eye on him so no funny business</p><p>I’m just so scared he’ll try something when I look away</p><p>I don’t want to be a weirdo and be glued to his hip</p><p>Or make him feel like idk I control him or something</p><p>I just want him to be safe and happy</p><p>He says there’s another android in his mind palace and she’s trying to take over</p><p>He’s scared that she’ll get remote control of him and make him kill you or me or anyone</p><p>He said she almost did during your speech</p><p>So to make sure she doesn’t control him he was going to kill himself</p><p>The first time I saw it on TV but he stopped himself</p><p>But tonight he almost did it and it freaks me tf out just how close he got to it</p><p>Fuck I’m sorry to unload all this on you I just don’t want to lose him</p><p>I’m scared that he got this suicide idea from me and that I’m poisoning him and I’ll make him worse and I don’t want that</p><p>Idk what to do</p><p> </p><p>You said he’s sleeping now?</p><p> </p><p>Yeah</p><p> </p><p>Androids can’t sleep when they’re under stress.</p><p> </p><p>His light is blue now</p><p>First time I’ve seen it normal for ages</p><p>It’s stayed blue since he went to sleep</p><p> </p><p>Do you sleep together?</p><hr/><p>Hank cursed to himself. The gig is up. Now all of China knows he’s a pervert.</p><hr/><p>No</p><p>Well I mean now yes</p><p>By now I mean tonight</p><p>I’m just trying to keep him close</p><p>Fuck</p><p>We’re not yknow involved</p><p>Not that there’s anything wrong with that</p><p>I’m sorry</p><p> </p><p>Don’t worry, I understand. He’s comfortable in your presence. I can come by to see him in the morning if that’s alright. Or I can try to get there sooner if you get tired of watching him.</p><p> </p><p>I won’t</p><p>So whenever you’re free is good</p><p>I appreciate you coming to help him</p><p> </p><p>Of course, Connor is a good friend.</p><p> </p><p>Yeah he’s the best</p><p>I’ll call us off work tomorrow</p><p>We live at 115 Michigan Dr, Det</p><p> </p><p>I’ll see you both tomorrow, then. It’ll be nice to see Connor and to finally meet you in person.</p><p> </p><p>Likewise</p><hr/><p>Hank felt strange. What was supposed to be a plea for help became too… candid. He guessed Markus was just the approachable type. To a degree, he felt like he said too much, but also not enough. Nevertheless, Connor could probably fill him in to the entirety of the situation tomorrow.</p><p>He dimmed the screen of his phone and put it back in his pocket. <em> Everything will be okay, </em> Hank silently thought, combing a hand through Connor’s hair to reassure himself, <em> Markus will be able to help him. </em> After that, everything would be fine and they could move past this. Now it was just a matter of time.</p><p>Despite his efforts, Hank couldn’t bring himself to relax. Like Connor could sense this in his sleep, or maybe it was just playing with his hair that had disturbed him, he turned and one of his hands wandered around Hank’s waist. Hank copied him without thinking, falling into a comfortable cuddle with his partner. With the LED illuminating the immediate area, Hank watched as their breathing synced. He could get used to this.</p><p>Sleep didn’t come. There was one more thing left at the back of his mind that needed to be addressed. Something that he didn’t even want to acknowledge was there. A spark had been lit inside of him, but he was quick to snuff it out. He was too old for this. It was just his mind’s way of clinging to the first person that was nice to him, <em> nothing more. </em></p><p>That was the lie he continued to feed himself with, neglecting his feelings instead of facing them head on, like he always did. If he tried hard enough, he could smother it in a few days, purging himself of any selfish wants of companionship. No matter how much he ached to be loved again, his friend didn’t need the added stress of Hank’s suffocating emotions, so he just wouldn’t subject Connor to them at all. He wouldn’t even humor the idea, so he let it die inside of his chest and be consumed by the emptiness.</p><p>Connor shifted in his sleep, further closing the space between them. Without anywhere else to go, Hank subconsciously nuzzled Connor’s hair softly, and found a comfortable spot atop his head. He couldn’t think of anywhere else on earth that he’d rather be, and let himself be lulled asleep by the slow spin of the blue light.</p><hr/><p>A car door closing woke them both. Connor cursed to himself and they both waited in anticipation, but nothing came. Once Sumo had lowered his head back down, they all sighed in relief. They returned to their original position, then huddled closer. Hank realized he was still in his work clothes and it hadn’t even crossed his mind to change the night before. It was ruining the mood. <em> What mood, </em> he wondered, when he tried to look at his phone to check the time.</p><p>With his eyes still closed, Connor informed Hank into his chest, “It’s too early.” His words came out with a bite, clearly annoyed.</p><p>Hank hummed in agreement. “Now you know why I’m so grumpy in the morning.”</p><p>He shook his head slightly, saying, “You’re not grumpy.” then went back to sleep.</p><p>The doorbell suddenly rang. Sumo lunged out of bed to go bark at the door. Hank instinctively grabbed for his gun on his nightstand, which wasn’t there. In his morning haze, he didn’t exactly know why or where it had gone, but his paranoia supplied him with the thought that whoever was at the door was a danger to Connor. Hank had to protect him, yet he couldn’t will himself out of the bed and away from his companion.</p><p>Connor said, “I’ll get it.” but made no visible effort to try.</p><p>The remark lightened the mood. Sumo began to whine and paw at the door, becoming excited like someone he knew was at the door. Slowly coming to his senses, Hank weighed the odds of there being an actual threat ringing the doorbell instead of trying for a sneak attack, when they were both at their most vulnerable. Connor shifted alongside him, but remained in place, further calming the lieutenant’s nerves. Jumping up against the door, Sumo began to howl.</p><p>“Sumo, don’t scratch the door!” The doorbell rang again which just made him cry louder, so Hank relented and got up. “<em> Ugh. </em>”</p><p>“No, I can get it.” Connor dragged him back down, but still didn’t move.</p><p>Hank chuckled. “I got it, don’t worry, you stay in bed.” There was silence as he waited for a response. “I’ll be right back.” He almost added ‘sweetheart’ to that, but held his tongue.</p><p>“Promise?”</p><p>Hank couldn’t help but smile fondly. “Yeah, I promise. What, you think I’m just going to go out into the wilds of Michigan in the middle of winter?” Connor peeked open an eye and gave him a small smile. Hank’s heart melted. <em> Oh boy </em>. The doorbell rang the third time. “Just stay put, I’m just gonna see who it is at this ungodly hour.”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>The mass of hair and slobber didn’t grant him access to the door, even though he wanted Hank to open it. “Okay, okay. C’mon, get back. Just let me - Sumo, <em> move. </em>” Hank held Sumo’s collar in preparation and barely got the door open. “Oh - Markus, shit, I’m sorry, I forgot. Come in, come in, just… watch out.”</p><p>He welcomed him in, keeping a firm grip on Sumo and expected him to lunge, but he just pulled to greet his new apparent friend. Markus stayed still, studying the dog, then reached out a hand to greet him. He sniffed his hand extensively, licked him, then promptly lost interest and returned to the bedroom.</p><p>They stood there while Hank rubbed his neck. Out of everything he expected to happen, that wasn’t one of them, though he figured he never had asked Connor exactly how he became acquainted with Sumo. He looked around, at a loss for words, and was thankful he had the decency to clean up a bit the night before. Much in the same way that Connor did, Markus took in his surroundings.</p><p>“Sorry that, uh, took so long. We were - we were still sleeping.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it. I did try to alert you when I got here, but I wasn’t waiting long. How is Connor?”</p><p>“He’s, uh, he’s - let me get him.” Hank returned to see that Connor had placed a pillow over his head, while Sumo had splayed over him like he did on the couch. He crept into bed and peeked under the pillow. “Hey, uh-”</p><p>“Took you long enough.” He joked, deadpan.</p><p>Hank chuckled, glad to see Connor in better spirits. He rested his head next to Connor’s, and basked in the morning sun. With how warm it was, they could hardly tell that it was freezing outside. He had forgotten how cozy this bed got when it was occupied, and he remembered how much he loved pillowtalk.</p><p>He repeated Connor’s own words from so many nights ago, “I didn’t know I was being timed.” Hank adored the sparkle of recognition in Connor’s eyes. “By the way, Markus is here. I asked him to come check on you after last night.” The levity drained from Connor and his LED cycled yellow and stayed there. “Hey - hey, it’s okay. Markus will be able to help you more than I can.” Connor shrank into himself and looked down and away. Hank rubbed Connor’s shoulder, then quieted his tone. “Do you want to see Markus?”</p><p>He sighed and closed his eyes. “I know I should.”</p><p>“But?”</p><p>“Talking about it is… difficult.” His forehead creased with worry and continued quietly, “I don’t want to physically interface with him.”</p><p>Hank quirked a brow. “Why not?”</p><p>“I don’t - I don’t want to share everything with him.” He could see that Hank didn’t understand.</p><p>The idea of contaminating his friend worried Connor. Although Markus was awake, he couldn’t be sure if he was infected with the same virus. After all, Markus showed no traits of whatever Connor has, so he might be safe, and could potentially house the cure to save others. <em> But not me. </em> Since Markus was an earlier RK model, Connor didn’t want to risk ruining that chance, or his friend. Last night flashed in his memory and he felt the fear slither around him like Amanda’s disembodied hand. That wasn’t something he wanted his friend to witness, let alone experience.</p><p>Hank pet Connor’s arm to try to get his attention. “I can tell him for you, if you want.” He offered, but Connor remained silent. “Just tell me what you need.”</p><p>“I - I don’t know.” He frustratedly huffed, getting out of bed and tidying his shirt. “I’ll go speak with him.”</p><p><em>There he goes again. </em> “Connor.” He listened but didn’t turn to face him. “Give me a signal or something if you want an escape.” Connor eyed him questioningly. “Y’know, like if you’re done talking with him. I’ll make an excuse to save your ass.”</p><p>Connor shrugged unceremoniously, but Hank caught sight of the side of his lips quirking upright before he turned away, shaking his head. “Okay.” He said plainly.</p><p>It was a start, but Hank wasn’t sure if he would take him up on the offer. While he was going through his morning routine, he was stopped by the smell and looked up to the miniscule hole in the bathroom ceiling. Seeing that solidified last night's memory in his head. Entry holes always hid the massive fallout behind them. Hank didn’t want to deal with that yet, so he put a knee on the sink, took one of the sticky notes from the mirror and covered the wound. <em> Out of sight, out of mind. </em></p><p>His pant leg had jingled when he stepped down. He produced Connor’s bullets from his pocket and promptly returned them. His own gun was still in the sink and he holstered it, then looked in the mirror for a long, hard time.</p><p>Much to Connor’s dismay, he was left alone with Markus in the kitchen to sort things out. Though Markus was his friend, Connor didn’t feel like his actions warranted the title. Compared to Hank, they felt more like acquaintances than anything. Now wasn’t a good time to build on the relationship either, because he was afraid he’d only serve to break it down.</p><p>“How have you been?” Markus smiled from where he was seated across the table, relaxing more since the human was in the other room.</p><p>“I don’t know how to answer that.”</p><p>He frowned, then held out his hand, supplying, “Maybe this will be easier.”</p><p>“I’m sorry - I don’t want to interface.”</p><p>Question rose on Markus’ face. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“How much did Hank tell you?”</p><p>“I’d rather hear it from you firsthand.” That irked Connor.</p><p>Hank wandered out to the living room and asked, “Hey, Con? Where’s your gun?”</p><p>Connor said, “I have it.”</p><p>Hank walked closer to squint at him. “Why?”</p><p>“I don’t want Sumo chewing on it.”</p><p>Either it was a bold faced lie or the truth, but Hank couldn’t tell which. Regardless, he wasn’t getting back the bullets. He shrugged out an, “Okay.” when his phone rang. He sighed and went back to the bedroom to answer it, as to not disrupt the conversation, but didn’t realize that Connor could and did listen in on it.   </p><p>“Hey, glad you called, we’re not coming in today. What? Now? <em> Why? </em> No, not now. Jeffrey, can’t this wait? No - okay, yeah, I know. Whatever, but Connor’s not coming. He’s not doing well, okay? So just give him some slack. I’d better get overtime. <em> Fine. </em> Yeah, I’ll be there soon.”</p><p>When he came back out with Sumo in tow, Connor asked, “We have to go in?”</p><p>“<em> I </em> do.” He clarified as he put on his shoes.</p><p>Connor glared at Hank. “I’ll come too.”</p><p>He could tell that it wasn’t up to question, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily on this one. “No, you need to stay here and get some more rest.”</p><p>“I recharged amply.” He pressed.</p><p>The air became thick with tension. Connor wasn’t going to selfishly ask him to stay at home with him, but he also didn’t want to be left behind. This was out of his comfort zone, and he knew he didn’t have much leeway in the terms of stability, as much as he hated to admit to himself. He got up and followed him.</p><p>Hank pulled on his coat and got his keys, then paused in front of the door. He could feel Connor was at his heels. “Stay here with Sumo.” He negotiated, but when he turned to look at Connor, knew he was having none of it. “Markus came over to help fix this, let’s just give him a chance, okay?”</p><p>“I can’t be fixed, though.”</p><p>“Con, I didn’t mean it like that.” But he knew Connor had, nevertheless. Hank sighed. “Markus, I know you’re better equipped for the situation. Connor can fill you in on the details.” Then said, “Call me if you need me.” and left.</p><p>Connor thought it was meant for Markus and stayed at the door, left with the urge to kick something. Logically he knew that wouldn’t change anything, but didn’t make it any less appealing. Part of him wanted to stop Hank, or even call a cab, but with that thought a sudden rush of fear coursed through him. It dawned on him that maybe he should stay.</p><p>From behind him, Markus asked, “Are you sure you want to stay here?”</p><p>“Yes, of course I do.” He urged, like his decision was being called into question again.</p><p>“He seems to infantilize your judgement.”</p><p>Connor chuckled at the irony. “Hank just isn’t good at first impressions.” He straightened his tie out of habit and returned to the kitchen table, while Markus joined him.</p><p>“He wasn’t talking to me. Connor, if I may-” Markus saw that Connor didn’t want to continue the conversation. “What’s going on, Connor? I’m worried.”</p><p>Steeling himself, he began to tell Markus <em> almost </em> everything. Having Markus come so far out of his way already seemed to be asking too much of him, with his short temper probably pushing things to their limit, so Connor tried to keep everything as short and sweet as possible. It was still long winded, even though he omitted some things. Maybe too many things, but he didn’t want to bother Markus with the details. All the while Markus listened intently, his attention never straying for a moment. He was focused, interested, and most of all, concerned, which hurt Connor the most.</p><hr/><p>
  <sub>Sent 9:23AM</sub>
</p><p>I’m sorry about earlier</p><p>I didn’t mean that you were broken or that anything was wrong with you</p><p>I mean there’s something wrong and we have to fix that</p><p>The situation</p><p> </p><p>I am broken, though.</p><p> </p><p>You’re broken like I’m broken</p><p>Unless like you’re actually hurt</p><p>You’re not hurt are you?</p><p> </p><p>No, I’m fine. Are you working a full shift today?</p><p> </p><p>I’m trying not to</p><p>But I feel like you should also get to have time to yourself</p><p> </p><p>I know I can have time to myself if I want to. Have I overstepped my boundaries?</p><p> </p><p>No ofc not I just thought you’d be tired of me by now</p><p> </p><p>I hate to rain on your parade, but I’m not.</p><hr/><p>“Hank, I’m not payin’ you to be on that damn phone of yours!”</p><p>“How do you know I’m not reading up on shit?” He retorted, but put his phone away.</p><p>“Like you don’t have a perfectly good computer in front of you?” It was rhetorical.</p><p>Hank turned in his chair so Fowler couldn’t see the mocking face he made. Gavin genuinely laughed and Hank returned with a mocking, “Get back to work!”</p><p>“You both can kiss my black ass!” Fowler fumed, returning to his office.</p><p>“Ew, don’t tell me you actually thought about it!” Gavin cackled at Richard, who looked as clueless to the remark as Connor had the first day they met. Gavin followed it up with, “You’re such a dumbass.” and pushed him a little bit too hard to be playful.</p><p>Hank smiled to himself, already feeling a warm fuzzy feeling of nostalgia. Shaking it off and scooting back up to his computer, he continued to read through the new cases that needed his apparent attention. There were a lot of strange sightings last night that caused enough public concern for the department to look into it further. There had been no apparent violence, but the androids in question were not normal ones, at least not that the public would be familiar with. They had all been badly damaged.</p><p>Gavin’s phone buzzed and sauntered over to Hank’s desk. “Alright, old man, what’s next?”</p><p>“What’re you talking about?”</p><p>“We got wrapped into this shit like you.” Hank cocked a brow. “We aren’t allowed to make a move until you say so.”</p><p>“I’m surprised you listened, but why me?”</p><p>Gavin shrugged. Richard supplied, “You’re considered the expert in the field. You and your android.”</p><p>“Connor.” Hank reminded him. “But that still doesn’t make any sense - this doesn’t have to do with deviancy or anything, so I know just as much as the next guy.”</p><p>“That’s what <em> I </em> told him, but Fowler doesn’t listen to me.” Gavin crossed his arms.</p><p>“Because I’m sure that differentiating between when you’re being serious or just an impetuous whelp is a difficult task for people that have to deal with you on a daily basis.” Gavin drew back a fist to strike, but Richard didn’t flinch. “Go ahead, punch me, and I’ll break your wrist in self defense.”</p><p>Gavin called his bluff, but still slowed the hit down to a measly tap. “So are we going or what?”</p><p>“Going where?”</p><p>Gavin groaned and sagged dramatically. “They found a busted up android ‘body’.” He put finger quotations up. “Didn’t you get the notice just now?”</p><p>Hank clicked through his screen, not knowing where to find it because he was usually either called or told directly. He did end up finding it and skimmed through it. “Yeah, yeah, hold your horses, it’s not like she’s going anywhere.”</p><p>Richard’s LED stuttered. “It apparently was sourced from the landfill.”</p><p>“So some creep is taking old robots to fix them. Let him. It’s a steal for how overpriced the damn things are.” Gavin snarled.</p><p>“No, <em> it </em> left the landfill.” He corrected.</p><p>Hank was awestruck. “I’ll get my keys.”</p><p>“Oh no, we’re not going there only to wait an hour for you to fuck around until you’re on scene. We’re taking a cruiser.”</p><p>Hank wanted to argue but shrugged. “Saves me on gas.”</p><p>Gavin scoffed. “Who the fuck uses gas anymore - you’re so outdated.”</p><p>As it turned out, the only cruisers left were their old stock that, while had been retrofitted with hybrid technology, still predominantly ran on gas. Even better, Hank learned that Gavin didn’t have a driver’s license as his car was autonomous. Hank refrained from rubbing it in.</p><p>Richard offered to drive and Hank opted to sit in the back to keep his distance. On their ride, he looked around at the grey city - such a far cry from the backroads. The city had its majesty, Hank couldn’t deny it, but he found himself becoming increasingly disenchanted with it, especially as of late.</p><hr/><p>
  <sub>Received 9:47AM</sub>
</p><p>Hey Con you wanna watch a movie tonight or something</p><p>Yknow, to get your mind off things</p><p> </p><p>I don’t know how well I’ll do around others.</p><p> </p><p>I mean on TV</p><p>I’m not a big fan of theatres</p><p>They're too loud but there's also the people aspect</p><p>You have anything in mind?</p><p>   </p><p>I don’t really know much about movies.</p><p> </p><p>You don’t have to</p><p>I know a nice feel good movie</p><p>Want me to pick up anything on the way home?</p><p> </p><p>Batteries, please.</p><p> </p><p>...is that a joke?</p><p> </p><p>No. You said you wanted to watch a movie on the TV. Your remote is out of batteries. I don’t see how it would be funny.</p><p> </p><p>I thought you wanted them for yourself</p><p>Nevermind</p><p>
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</p><p>I’m not sure if that was an insult or not.</p><p> </p><p>No it wasn’t supposed to be</p><p>Sorry I’m dumb</p><p> </p><p>I knew it wasn’t, I was just giving you a hard time. It’s difficult to portray emotions without visual cues.</p><p> </p><p>Lol yeah</p><p>We haven’t really texted before today, have we?</p><p> </p><p>This is the first time. Verbal communication tends to be easier when we’re next to each other.</p><p> </p><p>Heh, yeah</p><p>I’m not bugging you, right?</p><p>Or bugging you in general</p><p> </p><p>I am not picking up any voice recording hardware on my person or in my immediate surroundings.</p><p>That was a joke. I enjoy your company. Do you think I would have moved in if I didn’t?</p><p> </p><p>Idk</p><p>For all I know you could’ve been in it for Sumo</p><p> </p><p>Do you think I would’ve accepted the same offer if Reed was the one asking?</p><p> </p><p>He has cats</p><p> </p><p>I should call animal welfare.</p><p> </p><p>LOL</p><p> </p><p>I’m surprised that man has the capability of caring for another living creature.</p><p> </p><p>He has 3</p><p> </p><p>The situation is more dire than I thought.</p><p>I’m joking, by the way.</p><p> </p><p>LMAO yeah ik</p><hr/><p>They sat in silence while Markus thought, with his first question being, “This is why you asked about Amanda?” Connor nodded. “She was built into your model?”</p><p>He considered it. “I guess so.”</p><p>“Does she have a physical body?” Connor could only shrug. Markus hummed and brought his hand to his chin. “Well, I haven’t seen anyone like your description of her. It would be easier to interface so I could get a better idea of what’s going on. Is there any reason in particular that you don’t want to?”</p><p>He avoided eye contact. “There are things I don’t want to risk sharing.”</p><p>“I understand, but I don’t mind if it’s about Hank.” Connor cocked his head. “Well, last night he mentioned that you were able to get some sleep, so I imagine something he did helped you get there. Right?”</p><p>Connor wasn’t sure why it felt embarrassing to talk about. “Well, I mean he did, but it was just...” He cleared his throat and looked away, trying to think of an excuse, but he ended up just telling him the truth. “I feel safe with him.”</p><p>“He said you haven’t been sleeping for a while, though.”</p><p>“I’ve been staying on the sofa.”</p><p>“Ah.” Connor hummed in question. “Sorry, I had thought - nevermind.” He shook his head and recollected his thoughts. “So you stayed in his bed last night and was able to feel more safe there than on the sofa?” Connor nodded. “You realize that you’re much stronger than him.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know, but it’s not that.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>He opened his mouth, then closed it to think more. He ended up changing the subject. While they didn’t make any headway on the problem at hand, the hardest part of the conversation seemed to be over. The more they talked about unrelated stuff, the calmer Connor became. Even with everything happening, he became glad that he was able to see and actually get to know his friend. If he focused hard enough, it was like nothing had been wrong to begin with. His mind felt clearer, but he attributed it mainly to his sleep, which he decided not to think too hard about.</p><p>While they were letting out Sumo, Markus got word that he was needed elsewhere. Connor was fine with him leaving, as he was left a bit spent from the day. He realized that he still wasn’t entirely rested, so he was thankful that Hank made him stay home. They still made use of their time spent together, though.</p><p>There was a lightness to the air that wasn’t there before. It was easier for Connor to talk about topics that weren't serious, and he appreciated that Markus wasn’t pushing the matter. Just being able to relate to him as a person was nice. It felt like he was actually bonding with another android for the first time. Of course it would be Markus over anyone else, because he felt like no one would ever be able to forgive his crimes against his own people. He hoped that it would last.</p><p>They opted to sit in the living room while they waited for Markus’ ride to come. Connor and Sumo took the sofa and Markus got the recliner. They all basked in the moment of calm. Markus seemed to take great enjoyment in the comfortable recliner, and laid back in it for a bit, smiling, while Connor got pushed back by a big baby that wanted attention.</p><p>Connor had both hands on Sumo and asked, “So how did the attack on Cyberlife go?”</p><p>Markus snickered, and peeked up from his lying position. “You should know; you led it.”</p><p>“No, I mean the recent one - just a day or so ago.” He smiled back at him, astonished that he would forget something like that so fast.</p><p>Markus gave a confused look and pulled himself back up into a sitting position. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p>“But, Richard said I was in contact with the android that led it-”</p><p>His face was stone cold serious. “That wasn’t us.”</p><hr/><p>There, in the middle of the room lay a dead android. Her chassis was bare and unblemished. In her immediate vicinity were her own dislocated limbs, separated closely to where they should have been, almost like they had popped out on their own accord. Then around her, strangely enough, were many more limbs. All of the plastic was bare, much like Connor’s had been, which sent a shiver up Hank’s spine.</p><p>Detective Collins walked over to Hank and said, “Never seen anything like this before.”</p><p>Hank nodded as he looked around. “Anything interesting?”</p><p>“Just got the area secured.”</p><p>Hank hummed. “No footprints, blood?”</p><p>“Only hers.”</p><p>Richard crouched down beside the android and wiped his fingers on the ground. Hank had to look away because he knew what was going to happen, and he didn’t know if he could stomach it.</p><p>“<em> Dude. </em>” Gavin grimaced in disgust.</p><p> “He probably sees the blue blood and is testing it. Or god knows what else.” Hank turned to see that he was finished with the deplorable act. “So, who was she?”</p><p>“It’s a KL900 model, deactivated a month ago.” Richard paused and examined one of the limbs. “All of these parts aren’t original, besides the torso.”</p><p>“Is she some sort of body snatcher?” Gavin asked, crouching across from his partner to look closer.</p><p>“Some androids have interchangeable parts. She could have taken them from others in the landfill.” Richard looked up to Gavin. “So in a sense, yes.”</p><p>“But what about the rest?” Hank circled around, looking away from the epicenter. “She didn’t need more than a few.”</p><p>Richard picked up the arm closest to him that was last attached to the KL900 and inspected it further. Hank watched as Gavin would hand Richard a new limb after he was done with the last. It was surprising seeing him work together with someone under any condition, let alone with an android. After going through them all, he hummed, almost bemused.</p><p>“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, metal man?” Richard handed one of the legs back over to Gavin to see for himself.</p><p>“The inside connections are burnt on all of them.”</p><p>Gavin saw what he was referring to. “Yeah, and?”</p><p>“All of these parts are completely compatible with her unit, yet they seem to have been overloaded.”</p><p>Without warning, Richard took the thirium pump from the deceased android and catalogued it. He cocked his head, returned it to her body, and watched expectantly as the torso convulsed for a moment. Gavin jumped back, then when she fizzled out, he returned, perplexed.</p><p>“Look, man, we don’t need any zombies on the street, so don’t bring her back.” Gavin sneered.</p><p>“I wasn’t, I was testing my theory, and it was correct. The thirium pump rated for a much higher power than this model can take.”</p><p>Hank pursed his lips. “So it overloaded her system, killing her.” Richard nodded. “Then that begs the question, why?”</p><p>Gavin tossed out the idea, “Maybe she was the robot form of a junkie.”</p><p>“Androids don’t feel-”</p><p>“Deviants do.” Hank interrupted him.</p><p>“It wouldn’t have been a pleasant experience, regardless. It would’ve burned her up from the inside. Like a fever, but one hot enough to melt metal.”</p><p>Hank frowned. “Poor girl.” He curled his lip and began to investigate further. “Richard, is there any more blue blood you can see?”</p><p>A pause. “Only around her, but there has to be more.” Gavin looked at him in question. “There’s no residue on the limbs, meaning they weren’t put into a bag to be carried in, and she couldn’t have held them all at once.”</p><p>“So she took repeat visits?” Hank walked into the adjoining room.</p><p>“She had to have, or else she had help.”</p><p>“Collins’ said there’s only one set of footprints, though, even with all these extra feet.” Gavin observed. “So it was just her.”</p><p>Richard looked around and traced something out to the front of the house, then lingered there. Gavin stayed inside, thinking quietly while he worked. Hank thumbed through a book on the floor and found cryptic writing, similar to their earlier deviant cases. It was entirely possible that she had deviated and was thrown away, and got a little messed up in the process. But something felt different.</p><p>On the wall was a faint shimmer that caught Hank’s eye. The old drywall had some faint, barely detectable markings where something had pushed the dust away. If he angled himself, he could see it better, but not enough to make anything out. Gavin walked into the room with his attention downward, then looked up with a sneer.</p><p>Before he could let loose a remark, his face scrunched up and moved in closer for a better look. “I see it too.” He said with quiet affirmation, then turned and called, “Yo, Richard - come get your freaky eyes over here!”</p><p>Once Richard joined them, Hank asked, “There’s something on the wall, can you see what it says?”</p><p>“It’s Morse code written in thirium.” He hesitated. “It says, ‘don’t let her in’.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter is going to take longer because I have to move a lot of stuff around and figure out what all is going where, so have this one in rapid succession to the last to make up for that! Then it'll really slow down because then I'm going to need the community's response to what romance options I should pick, so maybe I should start getting feedback now!</p><p>Imo, romance and relationships don't require sex, but I'm not apposed to including or writing it. Given the nature of androids, I imagine Connor and RK900 to have all of the capabilities available to Cyberlife, including the nsfw type. In the background story, which won't be written here but coincides with the plot, I already have a specific idea to how RK900 uses it, but my decision becomes vague with Connor.<br/>So! I'd like your opinion on the later chapters if they should include sex or not :&gt; If people want an anonymous poll I can set one up, otherwise I'll be relying on the comments here plus the input of my friends.</p><p>I also want to thank everybody so far with your support, it's all incredibly appreciated and fuels my drive to finish my own book ;w;b</p>
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